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Jessie's Hope

By Jennifer Hallmark

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April 28, 2008

Homer watched the enormous four-wheel-drive tractor as it
crawled down the gravel road in front of his house, then released
a sigh. That machine could do in a few hours what he’d been working
at all day. Would it ever get any better? He only wanted to care for his
household, but life threw more at him than he could deal with. What if
he failed? His granddaughter Jessie deserved more. Better. How could
he help her deal with the emotional blow of their family torn apart by
the divorce?

The forest green glider outlined in dirty white creaked in protest
as he shifted to a more comfortable position. He had to sit a minute
and cool off. Straightening his long legs, he winced as his arthritic
knee stiffened. Why’d we put off buying cushions to pad this cold metal
antiquity?

He pulled off his cap and ran his fingers through his hair, leaning
forward. Too much work to do, too many bills to pay. Why’d Wayne
have to leave?

Homer opened his eyes to the sound of a vehicle rambling up the
driveway. One glance at the Chevrolet Beretta initiated a slight smile.
His girls. Elizabeth had barely parked the car between his old truck and
Martha’s Ford when ten-year-old Jessie bounded from the car.
“Hey, Papaw!” She scampered up the porch steps. Her brown hair,
the color of molasses, was tucked into a blue baseball cap, the same
color as her Riverview Bulldogs jersey. “We need your truck.”
She flung herself on the seat beside him. “Can I have a dollar for
a candy bar? You know I’ll need it when the game’s over.” Jessie was a
miniature version of her mother. Same color hair, same deep brown eyes.

The screen door to the old house swung open and Martha padded
across the porch. “Why, Jessie. I thought you had a ballgame.” She
pushed back the gray streaked bob from her face, then hugged her
granddaughter.

“I do, Mamaw. And we’re in a hurry.”

“Let me see what I’ve got.” Homer dug the faded wallet from his
jeans pocket. Thirty dollars left. He produced two one-dollar bills.
Anything for his only grandchild. “Here’s enough for a candy bar and
a coke.”

By now Elizabeth—their only child and one they’d had a little later
than most of the folks they knew—joined them on the porch. “Dad,
you don’t have to do that.”

“You know I don’t mind. Something wrong with your car?”

“Tammie’s bringing me an old rocking chair she doesn’t want. I
thought I’d stain it to sit on the front porch. And I’m about out of gas
and really don’t have time to stop.” She bent to kiss his cheek. “You do
have gas, don’t you?”

“Of course.” He furrowed his brows and poked around in his
pocket until he found the truck key. “A vehicle runs better if you keep
it topped off. Here you go.”

“I know. There just doesn’t seem to be enough hours in the day.”
She glanced at her phone. “Wow. Ten ‘til six.” She waved Jessie to her.
“We’ve gotta go.” She smiled in appreciation, her brown eyes looking
almost apologetic. “Love y’all.”

As they trotted to his truck, Homer readjusted his cap. Was
Elizabeth overwhelmed or just tired? Or maybe she’s coming down
with something. He’d ask her about it when she brought the truck
back.

“Be careful,” Martha called after them. “They’re calling for a
downpour this evening.”

“We’ll be fine.” Elizabeth slid into the old truck and waved as
she cranked it. She shifted into reverse and lumbered back down the
driveway.

“You know, Homer, you need to go ahead and buy new tires for that pickup.” Martha plopped down on the nearby porch swing and it
creaked with her weight. “And maybe clean it up.”

“We’ve been over this.” He shook his head. She just didn’t
understand a man’s farm truck. And the fact that the money just wasn’t
there. “When the cotton’s in, I’ll get ‘em. And it’s clean enough for me.”

In the distance, the vehicle turned from their gravel road onto the
pavement. The dust stirred on their driveway making an eerie filter for
the sunlight peeking out behind thickening clouds.
“Yep,” Homer muttered. “Looks like we’re in for a storm.”

***

The last flecks of light faded as fat splashes of rain stirred the dust below
his feet. Homer stood outside the barn door and grinned up at the sky,
happy to see the rain. The cotton sure needed it, and he needed all the
extra money he could lay his hands on to help Elizabeth and Jessie. But
how long could he keep robbing Peter to pay Paul? As long as he had to.
He set off at a trot from the barn. The cows and chickens fed, time
now for a late supper. And his girls should be back soon.

He stopped on the back stoop and knocked the wet from his ball
cap. He inhaled. Something smelled good. Cornbread and beans.
Maybe a pie. He pushed through the door and into the small kitchen.
Bright yellow curtains were stirred by the breeze through the window.
But no Martha. He opened his mouth to call for her when the
phone rang.

“Homer, can you get that?” Martha’s voice sounded from their
bedroom.

He trudged into the living room and picked up the landline on the
end table by his recliner. “Hello?”

“Homer? It’s Bill.”

“Yeah, Bill. What’s up?”

“Look … it’s Elizabeth and Jessie.” The tension in Bill’s voice ran
fingers of fear up Homer’s spine. “You gotta get to Hodge’s Corner.
There’s been a bad wreck.” He paused but only for a second. “Hurry.”

The receiver slipped from Homer’s hand. Not his girls.

“Homer, what is it?” Martha’s face blanched as she stared at the
fallen receiver.

“We gotta go.”

As they raced toward Martha’s car, a wicked flash of lightning split
the sky right before the deluge began.

***

Ten years later…

Jessie glanced around, her fingers loosely clasped in her lap. Was
something wrong? Matt’s silence created emptiness in the pit of her
stomach. She leaned back and snuggled closer to him on the darkgreen porch swing.

“What is it?” She pushed back her brown bangs, then giggled a bit
too loud. “You’ve been acting awfully weird. Not remembering what
day it is and misplacing your keys. Now we’ve been sitting here for ten
minutes, and you haven’t said a word.”

“Nothing.” Matt grinned and jingled the keys in his right front
pocket. “Had a lot on my mind, I guess.” He stretched his arm along
the porch swing, shifting away from her.

Jessie squinted. “Like what?” He’d been reserved all week, so unlike
his easygoing ways. The cool breeze picked up and wafted across the
porch, causing her to shiver. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

“Jessie, can I ask you something?”

“Of course. Anything.” She looked up to the light-blue eyes that
captured her long ago. They were nearly buried under the rim of his
ballcap, but they still managed to make her heart leap. He gently swung
the swing with his foot. Her heart rate increased as his tender smile met
hers. She reached up and grasped the hand around her shoulder.
His mouth drew to a line as he stared in the direction of the barn. A
lone cow mooed in the distance as darkness swallowed up the farms on
Blue Ridge Road. From the nearby pond, frogs sang their raspy songs
as a few fireflies floated nearby. The dusk threw wide shadows from the
tall oaks that inhabited the front yard. From inside the house, someone
flipped on the porch light.

“Jessie?” Matt straightened, removing his arm from around her.

She fidgeted, then rested her elbow on his shoulder. “Yes?”
Why was he taking so long?

He pushed back his ballcap and continued to survey the barn. Scant
light illuminated his smooth features. “How long have we known each
other? Since I moved here in the fifth grade, right?”

“Of course.” Her mind drifted back to elementary school. “We met
in the lunchroom, after your mama brought you in. You had to eat
with us little kids. I felt so sorry for you.”

He turned his head to smile at her. “You never told me that. How
come?”

She grasped his hand again and traced her finger over the rough
skin. “How come I never told you that or how come I felt sorry for
you?”

“The second one.”

“You were petrified. And I know what it’s like to be stared at.”

“Do you know what I remember about that day?” He smiled once
more and his teeth shone against his farmer’s tan. “The teacher guided
me to the only available seat at the end of the table by you. You had
your lunch perfectly laid out. The Salisbury steak was cut in uniform
pieces, peas lined up around the square tray and the potatoes were
smashed into a neat square. I’d never seen a kid organize their food
before.”

Heat crept up Jessie’s neck. She stiffened, releasing his hand. Why
did he have to mention her OCD tendencies? “Well, I guess I’ve always
been a bit of a perfectionist.”

“A bit?”

“Okay, a lot.” Jessie crossed her arms. “But isn’t that what you love
about me?”

His smile faded. He stood and walked to the edge of the porch. He
pushed his hand in one of his pants pockets, then drew it out in a fist.
She licked trembling lips, knowing that what she’d feared had come to life. Matt was breaking up with her. He didn’t love her. A minute
ago, she’d asked him if her OCD was one of the things he loved about
her and he’d not answered.

She drew in a breath, but it only strangled her.

But then, with a quick movement, he perched on one knee beside
the porch swing. “I think I’ve loved you since the first day I saw you.”
His left hand gripped hers while he opened his other hand, revealing a
ring, the diamonds small, round, and perfect. “I don’t ever want us to
be apart. I want us to get married.”

She gasped as he slid the cool metal onto her finger. “Oh, Matt.”

She stared at the white gold circle with the small cluster of diamonds.
Every ounce of fear dissipated as she relaxed. “It’s beautiful.”

He shifted, but didn’t rise. “Well?”

She held the ring toward the porch light, and twirled it on her
finger. “Well, what?”

“Yes or no?”

Marriage. She couldn’t help but wonder how Mamaw and Papaw
would react. Would they be happy or would they ask her to wait a while longer?

If only her mother were alive.

Jessie patted the seat beside her. Her smile widened as he pushed
from his knee and slid in by her. Her arms encircled his neck. “I love
you, Matt Jansen, more than anything in the world. Yes, I’ll marry
you.” She pressed her lips against his for a long moment.

In the fading light, she snuggled against his chest as he pushed
the swing back into a gentle motion. She could stay here, just like
this, forever. With the crickets singing their praises of the momentous
occasion, joined by an occasional hoot of an owl. Her old dog, Bear,
toddled up the steps and plopped down on the worn welcome mat
by the front door. The rest of her life faded in the perfection of the
moment. Except that ...

She glanced at Matt. He loved her. That much she knew. But would
he stay when things got tough?

Matt gestured toward the hound. The dog’s short grizzled hair and floppy ears revealed a sprinkling of basset in his heritage. “Lazy dog.
We’ll have to get us one, you know. Bear will never want to leave your
papaw.”

“That’s true.” She sighed. “Our own dog.” She took a moment to
allow everything to settle. “Mrs. Matt Jansen,” she said. The words
tickled her ears as she glanced at the ring. “How am I going to tell
Mamaw and Papaw?”

“Don’t you think they know how we feel about each other?”

Jessie released a deep breath as she glanced at the front door.
“Mamaw does for sure, but Papaw, he still thinks I’m his baby girl. Ever
since Mama died, they’ve raised me like their own. It’ll be a shock.”

Matt brightened. “I’ve got an idea. I’ll come over for breakfast in
the morning, so we can tell them together.”

She poked his shoulder as she grinned. “Any excuse for Mamaw’s
cooking.”

“Jessie.” Mamaw’s voice rang from inside the house. “It’s late. And
it’s getting cool out there.”

Jessie straightened. Her grandparents worried too much. “I sure
hope they understand. Mamaw still treats me like I’m ten instead of
twenty. Some things will probably never change.”

Matt kissed her cheek before standing. “I’m glad your grandparents
are protective. Gives me less to worry about.” He ambled near the
door and pulled the self-propelled wheelchair toward the swing. Matt
parked it as close to the swing as he could, then locked the wheels.
With a practiced hand, he bent over to swing the foot pedals up and
out of the way.

“I don’t know why you worry about me.” Jessie huffed. “I’m as able-bodied as anyone you know. You’re starting to sound like Mamaw.” She
gripped the armrest and carefully maneuvered herself into the chair,
straightening her useless legs. He flipped the foot pedals down as she
picked up each leg to set it on the pedal.

He crouched beside her. “You are the most capable person I know.
I’ll be back in the morning, and we’ll tell them together.”

She leaned over and kissed him. “I can’t wait.”

“Bear,” he commanded the old dog. “Out of the way.”
The short-legged hound heaved to all fours and shuffled toward the
steps before he collapsed again. Matt pulled the screen open and swung
the old wooden door inward as Jessie pushed against the lightweight
wheels to maneuver into the house. “See you in the morning,” Matt
said, closing the door.

Jessie only nodded as she glanced over one shoulder. Once fully
inside, she slipped the ring from her finger and shoved it into her jeans
pocket.

“Is Matt gone?” Mamaw wandered into the living room, turned off
the television, and picked up an empty glass from the end table. She
peered out the window. “I reckon so. I hear his noisy truck now.”

“He’ll be back for breakfast.” Jessie turned her wheelchair and
reached for her book, which was propped on the floral print couch.
Mamaw’s expression at the sight of the ring would be priceless, but it
could wait until morning.

“That young man sure likes to eat.” Mamaw narrowed her eyes.
“Are you feeling okay? You look flushed.”

“I’m in love.” She flashed a small grin. Hopelessly, extremely in
love. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Goodnight, dear.” She brushed a kiss on Jessie’s cheek before
disappearing into the kitchen.

Jessie stared at her grandmother’s retreating form. Her grandparents’
bedroom rested on the other side of the kitchen where Papaw had long
ago retired for the night. Homer always goes to bed with the chickens,
Mamaw would say.

Got up with them too.

Some things never changed.

She maneuvered between the chair and the recliner, pushed into her
bedroom, and carefully pulled the ring from her pocket. She flipped on
her bedside lamp and admired it under the light.
“Mrs. Matt Jansen.” She couldn’t say those words enough. The
small diamonds sparkled, and Jessie slipped it back on her finger.
She couldn’t wipe off her smile as she brushed her teeth, combed
through her baby-fine hair, and changed into her gown. As always, the
extended time it took to complete the simplest tasks wore on her.
“No wonder Mamaw always pushes me to bed early. She knows
how slow I am,” Jessie whispered at her reflection in the low-hung
mirror. But at least she didn’t fuss as much as she used to.

She found her phone and sent a text to Matt. I love you. Good
night.

She cradled the phone close, waiting for his reply.

In a moment, her doorbell-text ring sounded. She read the message
aloud as if it were the first time he’d ever texted her. Love you!
She drew her journal off the nightstand and tossed it on the pillow
before moving herself onto the bed.

What am I thankful for today? She penned the words at the top of
the journal page. Pastor Allen had preached last Sunday morning on
learning to be grateful and on keeping a thirty-day journal. She was
now at Day Five. I’m thankful to be alive and to know that Matt loves
me. He wants to marry me. Wheelchair and all. What more could I ask for?

Jessie blinked back tears. She could have told him she’d loved him
from the first time he spoke to her. He was the first of the students who
hadn’t gawked at her wheelchair as if she were an alien from another
planet instead of the same classmate as she’d been before the accident.
He later shared that his grandma was wheelchair-bound also.

I think that’s what means the most to me, she wrote. Matt knows the
struggles, the aggravation of dealing with a chair. He proposed anyway. I’ve
always hoped he would. I was so afraid he wouldn’t …

Jessie laid the journal on the nightstand and flipped off the lamp.
Her light pink curtains and white chenille bedspread faded as darkness,
except for a slight glow from her phone, hugged her.

She squeezed her eyes shut. It was almost like being whole. When
the room was dark and the covers surrounded her, she was like everyone
else. When she sat beside Matt on the swing, she was not crippled.
The movement belonged to her, rising inside her chest until she was
pushing the swing with her own foot.

She stared in the direction of the chair near her bed. How could
she hate and love something at the same time? An unwelcomed tear trickled down her cheek. The church had purchased the lightweight modern wheelchair, so much better than the clunky ancient one she had before. With this one, she could go almost anywhere. Do almost anything.

Except pretend to be whole.

Jessie shook her head. Why did she have to be crippled in the
wreck? Why did her mother have to die? She forced the questions from
her mind. Don’t go there, she told herself. Not tonight. Not tonight of
all nights.

She could easily vent her anger on everyone around her, but what
good would that do?

Concentrate on the blessings. If she could focus on the good,
maybe for a moment, she could forget the bad. The wreck. The pain.
The blessings were her grandparents. God. Church. Life. Matt. She
covered her face with her hands.

Matt.

Did he really know what he was in for?

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