“Change and decay in all around I see,
Oh thou who changest not, abide with me.”*
Change. Hannah would grow up and leave home. He would still love her even though she would no longer be in the room down the hall. Could the same thing be said of Allison? She was no longer sharing his life...but was she?
He thought of all the times he’d catch snatches of her perfume, the times he’d suddenly remember something funny she had said or done. Could she be nearby?
It occurred to him that he was lucky. He still loved her after all these years. He liked to believe that she still loved him. How many couples could say the same? His gaze slid to his parents.
They’d also been lucky. Four years ago, they’d celebrated their fiftieth wedding anniversary. But many of their friends had divorced or been widowed. Of the two, which was the saddest? Is it sadder to have a love physically die, or emotionally die? To be separated by death? Or by indifference? Or maybe even disdain?
Hannah elbowed him and he pulled himself from his thoughts and tried to focus on the hymn. As he sang, the word took on a deeper meaning.
“Heav'n's morning breaks, and earth's vain shadows flee;
In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me.”
*Abide With Me, Henry Lyte
#
ZOE SAT ON THE PEWbetween Laurel and Courtney trying to focus on the pastor’s sermon. He piqued her interest when he referred to the parable of the lost coin.
“The widow lit a candle, which gave light, and swept every corner to find the lost coin. And when she found it, she called her friends and her neighbors together, saying, Rejoice with me; for I have found that which I had lost.
This story tells us we have to take action, light up the darkness, and sweep until a treasured possession or lost soul is found and returned to a rejoicing home.”
A thrill passed through Zoe. This couldn’t be a coincidence, could it? That the Sunday after losing her coins, the pastor would choose to deliver a sermon on the lost coins?
This parable had never meant very much to Zoe before. In fact, she had always thought the woman’s reaction to finding a lost coin was over the top. And yet, now it struck her with force. She, like the woman, had spent hours scouring her house in search of her lost coins. And yes, they were just coins, but they represented so much more.
They were a connection to a family and a heritage, something of which she had so little. Yes, she had Laurel, Courtney, Grandma Lillian, and sometimes Mom, but the coins embodied those people who had not only come before her, but by purchasing something of worth and saving it for her, had demonstrated their care and consideration for her and her future children.
Zoe, battling tears, excused herself. Exiting the crowded chapel mid-sermon, she felt questioning stares on her back. She tripped through the parking lot and passed through the wrought-iron gates that led to the cemetery. Within moments, she found herself beside her grandfather’s grave.
She had never known the man. It then struck her that her family was more a matriarchy than anything else. Men had to have come and gone, otherwise Zoe, Courtney, and Laurel would never have existed. But the men had never stayed.
And neither her grandmother nor her mom had ever seemed bothered by this. Not that she could blame her grandfather for dying in the Korean War. But what about her father? What was his story? Had he been a one-night stand? She found this possibility painful, almost as painful as the thought that her father might have known about her and still chose not to have anything to do with her.
If she wanted children, should she consider artificial insemination? Lots of women her age chose to have children without having a husband. Was that something she wanted?
Ethan flashed in her mind. She imagined him sitting on a pew beside Hannah. She could see herself sitting beside him. Fast forward, and she saw him standing beside an altar, a grown Hannah dressed in white standing between him and a young man in a tuxedo, a pastor in front of them.
Did she want to be a part of that picture?
Did she even have a choice? Before Ethan had left for Washington, he’d been unkind, cold...she didn’t need that.
She didn’t need him. He was, she decided, like the bread in a French toast recipe. Without him, her life would be an omelet—lovely and complete in its own way. But if she wanted French toast—a fuller, richer, more satisfying life—she would have to find the bread. And, to take the analogy a step or two further, the bread didn’t even have to be perfect. In fact, if the bread were slightly stale, that would be even better.
She, herself, wasn’t perfect, either, of course. She couldn’t expect Ethan to be more than she could give. But maybe together, they could create something luscious.
But was he even interested?
Zoe sank down on the grass before her grandfather’s headstone. “I lost the coins,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to, but I did anyway.”
A slight breeze blew through the graveyard, rustling the leaves in the trees. In most parts of the Northern Hemisphere, trees were barren in November, but not here.
In Southern California, the trees were often confused. The perpetual sunshine encouraged year-round foliage. People lived and died, but the trees didn’t have to be dormant. Not ever. Not here. Zoe sat back on her heels, thinking of families. She loved her band of women. They didn’t need men.
