10th Ticket. Melissa's Memorial Service

We sat around mother’s kitchen table, my father, mother, Devon and me, enjoying homemade vegetable and beef stew from a cast iron pot. “I missed this kind of cooking,” said Devon. “This is so good, Mrs. Mallam.”

“Thank you.” Said mom. “Call me, Kate, please.”

“Tastes better when you grow your own vegetables,” said dad.

“Oh yeah, absolutely.” Said Devon, taking another spoonful.

“Really nothing like it.” I said.

“Well there’s plenty so have as much as you’d like.” Said mom.

“How was the ride up son?” Dad wanted to know.

“No complaints. The roads weren’t too crowded. We stopped for gas and lunch just south of the Montana state line.”

“Your going to have to let me take that roadster out for a spin while your here, Jim.”

“Your not spinning anything.” Said mom.

“Professional curiosity.” Said dad. “We’ll check out that German engineering, hey Jim?”

“You’ll both kill yourselves with German engineering. I can’t afford to lose you just yet.

“Alright, Kate.” He smiled and patted her hand.

Devon, grinned and gave me a sideways glance as if to say, are you seeing this?”

“Besides,” mom said, “I still need you to chop all that fire wood out back before winter drops in on us.”

“Of course dear.”

“You two are so cute.” Devon blurted out.

“Oh honey,” mom said waving her hand in the air, “it’s just an act we put on for company.”

“Most of the time we want to kill each other.” Said dad with an ear to ear grin.

“Oh you know that’s not true.” Said Devon. “There’s a lot of love here. I can tell.”

“I suppose there is.” Mom said smiling while, at the same time, turning slightly red.

“Jimmy you may be driving home alone, I want to keep this one,” dad said nodding to Devon.

Devon laughed. “Really?”

“You can count out my blood pressure pills every morning.”

“Sure, how many?”

“Two.”

“I’ve been known to count to two.” Said Devon barely able to contain a smile.

“Nelson Mallam! Are you flirting with our guest?” Mom wanted to know. “Your ninety-two years old.”

“Why don’t you remind me twenty times a day. Word to your mother. Now I have to run. Bathroom time. Give me some beats.”

Mom said, “you don’t have to announce it, dear.”

Mom relaxed in her chair, threw her napkin on the table and gave me that, let’s get down to business look. Devon got up without making a sound and started cleaning up. Doing the dishes

“How long has dad been rapping, word to your mother?”

“I don’t know. Tom’s grand kids come over and blast it. He picks up this and that and then he tries it out on the rest of the family.”

“So what’s new ma, besides dad’s new rap career?”

“Do you know what to expect tomorrow, son?”

“Not really. I’ve tried not to harbor any expectations or preconceived notions.”

“Just as well you don’t. They aren’t the same people you knew in high school, Jim. She ain’t the same girl.”

“She’s been dead since 92, 93 at the latest.

“People seen her walking around her father’s property. Not too long ago either.”

“Who?” I wanted to know. “Have you seen her?”

Not me, but others. Tom’s seen her from a distance.”

“He never told me that he’d seen her.”

“Apparently she looks like a ghost.”

Devon looked over at me, eyes wide.

“Dr. Trebbie, the youth pastor at church gave her creepy husband a job playing the prelude music on Sundays. Trebbie himself told me he was playing the Old Rugged Cross just fine then changes up to something called, You Can’t Always Get What You Please.” What kind of song is that?”

“Rolling Stones.”

“To make matters worse this guy, Roy, her so-called spouse, corners Dr. Bloom coming out of church one evening and demands money for his musical services. When Bloom, poor old country vicar that he is, can’t give him anything, this Roy beats him to a pulp.

“Were the police called in?”

“Jimmy there ain’t no police in this town. You know that. Never has been. Next morning Roy and Melissa are in the wind.”

“And they never came back?” I asked.

‘There would be sightings from time to time but it was always from a distance.” Mom got up and looked around. “Who did the dishes, Jim?

The kitchen was spotless. “Devon.” I said.

“Oh that sweet girl. She’s a keeper, Jim. She has mother Mallam’s seal of approval.”

I climbed the stairs and entered the room which used to be my old bedroom. Devon had just stepped out of the shower, she was drying her hair with a towel and wearing one of my old little league t shirts, Range Bearcats.

“Looks good on you.” I said.

“Oh thanks, hope you don’t mind. It was in the closet.”

“Not at all.”

“Jim, your white as a ghost.” She came over and felt my face. “Your cold too.”

“I’ll be alright.”

“Take a shower, warm up a bit.”

I loved her gentle commands, her fingers undoing the buttons on my shirt. She was sweet, protective, not afraid. I never expected this kind of attention when I asked her to come with me. I stayed in the shower until the water ran cold. I let my mind go blank and felt nothing, felt good, felt relief. I counted my heart beats before turning off the water. In bed she reached over, placed the palm of her hand on my stomach. “Your warm now, feel better?”

“Much.” I said.

“Jimmy, I’ll never let you get cold.”

The next morning when I woke up, Devon was sitting on the edge of the bed writing in a notebook. She sensed me looking at her, and turned. “Good morning.” She said in a cheery voice. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes I did, thanks. Deep, dreamless, totally restful.”

“I’m glad. I was a little worried about you last night.”

“Is that right?”

“When you walked in the room you looked shook up about something.”

“Memories started crowding in. That and my mother loves bringing me up to date on the latest. She never calls it gossip because gossiping is a sin so all the trashy news is referred to as the ‘latest.’ That organic, over-the-garden-gate variety of tale telling that you only get in small towns.”

Devon laughed. “Yeah I know it well; raised on it. My mother used to say that if Welsh Mills had a newspaper then women wouldn’t have to tell stories.”

“Same here, no newspaper, no cops, no street light. For a long time Range wasn’t even on the map.”

“Same with Welmill. That’s short for Welsh Mills. We didn’t have any of those things either. Just crops and cows. I have to go make myself pretty.” Devon stood and disappeared into the bathroom.

She left her notebook open, I picked it up intending to move it to the side table on her end of the bed but in doing so noticed she had written, at the top of the page, ‘What we have in common.’

D&J Born and raised in small Towns.

D. Born – 1991 Welsh Mills Idaho

J. Born – 1956 Range Montana

D. Left at 17 yrs 2008

J. Left at 17 yrs 1973

Brothers – Attorneys

Both sets of Parents still living.

Sheltered upbringing, (Small Towns)

Fell in love at young age.

Both rejected by future spouses.

Multiple years spent mourning losses.

Well Traveled.

D. Lower 48 + Alaska

J. World wide.

College..

D. Business degrees. University of Utah

J. Journalism degree. Missouri School of Journalism

Current Educational situations

Utah State University, Logan.

D. Student*

J. Teacher**

* D – Be calm my heart.

** J – TRS.

There were other pages filled with her thoughts but I refrained from turning the pages for fear she might hear and come out of the bathroom. I couldn’t get caught. I figured that if I didn’t say anything, respected her privacy, I might discover additional notes laying around. Not sure what TRS means. Probably teacher something???

We had gone from having a cup of coffee together to sharing a bed in four days. Our age differences melted away on the drive up. At a rest stop while I was pumping gas she set a picnic table with our drinks and sandwiches. We sat there and ate in happy, contented silence. It felt like we were attached. When we finished she cleaned up the table and I swept out the car, gave it a quick squirt of air freshener. I wanted her to be comfortable. She finished telling me about her boyfriend and fell asleep.

J – Get some rest.

D – Jimmy, I’ll never let you get cold.

The Chapel in the Funeral Home was filled with people I didn’t know. To my surprise and relief nobody seemed to know me either. Buster and Lisa were there, of course. Buster was in a wheel chair and Lisa, the old plow, was doing her best to push him around. It was obvious the way Buster was greeting everyone and shaking hands that this was his party. He and Lisa avoided my parents who were standing quietly by one of the fire exits. Planning their escape no doubt. “Hey big guy!” I turned and Tom wrapped me up in his arms, nearly lifted me off the ground. “How are you little brother?”

“I’m fine, Tom, I see your doing well. Tom this is Devon”

“Hi Tom.” Said Devon and extended her hand.

“I’m West.” Said Tom’s beautiful wife, swooping in and extending her hand over Tom’s. Devon shook her hand instead. “C’mon I’ll show you around Devon. These two have to talk shop for a minute.” They wandered off and Tom said, “so, how much did you have to sell your soul for to get her attention?”

“Wasn’t cheap, bro. She’s actually one of my students.”

“Look, after this wake is over we have to meet in my office.”

“Oh, you have news?”

“You might say that. I think I was more surprised than anyone.”

“Maybe I should have told you but there were reasons.”

“You think? It would have been nice to let mom and dad know, at least out of respect.”

“Have you told them?” I asked.

“Attorney – Client privilege. What difference does it make now? She’s dead and you have a hottie half your age.”

“Let’s not disturb the dead.” I said.

“Or the living.” Said Tom. “And speaking of the dead look whose rolling up?”

“Tommy boy.” Roared Buster, and stuck out his hand. It looked like half a pound of raw steak. Buster left it hanging in the air until Tom reached out and grabbed it.

“Hey Buster.”

Then Buster turns to me, “I’m Buster Lee Tains, sir. I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure.” Again with the meaty paw.

Lisa laughs, embarrassed. “Sorry Jimmy.” She said. "He's kinda ya know..."

I grabbed Buster’s hand and leaned into the side of his face, whispered into his ear. "I’m Jimmy Mallam, Tom’s brother. We spoke on the phone last week.”

Buster’s paw went slack and dropped into his lap. “I didn’t recognize you Jimmy, hell you’ve been gone a life time.”

“Well now I’m back.” I said smiling.

Buster was suddenly showing his age. Lisa said, “let’s take our seats” and pushed him to the front of the room.

Four Scottish pipers came marching in playing Amazing Grace. Tom and I could no longer hear ourselves speak. Tom waved to mom and dad, we walked toward them. As I walked through the row of folding chairs I felt Devon’s hand in mine. She and West were right behind me and Tom. We all sat together as a family.

I was no sooner seated than six pall bearers came in through the back of the chapel carrying a gaudy gold coffin. We all stood as it passed. When the piper’s were finished the coffin was placed on a stand in front of the podium. A youngish looking pastor in white and gold robes stood while we took our seats. I Noticed Tom looking down, biting into his fist, trying hard not to laugh. West had her hand on his knee, squeezing, a warning not to laugh out loud. Then she whispered something to Devon who smiled and tried not to laugh. “The coffin is empty.” She said. “She’s still in Ohio, no autopsy yet.”

I wasn’t surprised. One more mystery floating in a shit storm on the sea of who knows what? I shrugged, “so?”

West puts her arm around Devon pulls her in and whispers more of the latest. Devon repeats. “He doesn’t know, Buster thinks she’s in the coffin. Jokes on Buster.”

The Pastor steps up to the podium. “Welcome family, friends and out of town guests. Today we are going to Manage, Mourn and Celebrate the glorious life and untimely death of Melissa Tains. She was truly the best Range had to offer. When Melissa’s parents were told about the death of their daughter they were devastated. I sat with them and told them their grief would pass but it needed to be managed. Managed like a good farm. Buster’s farm. The field is plowed, the seeds are planted and then after nourishing and tending there is the harvest.”

Mother scribbles. West looks at the paper and disguises a laugh as a sneeze then shares the info with Devon. ‘wonder if they filmed planting seeds?’

I turned the paper over and wrote, ‘low blow,’ passed it back.

“Today,” Pastor said raising his voice and eyes heavenward. “Today is the harvest. A bitter harvest indeed. A child is not supposed to die before his or her parents. But these things happen. We manage. We mourn. Next we celebrate. Let’s celebrate Melissa’s life with Song. Our first number will be performed by the Children’s Choir of The First Nondenominational - and also, nonjudgmental - Church of Range Montana. Kids come on up. A dozen children raced up to the front and gathered around the pastor, who I just realized hadn’t told us his name. Not that it mattered. A gray, middle aged woman took her place at the piano and started playing. After a few bars the children joined in singing a song they must have written themselves.

“Melissa, Melissa your the best daughter we ever had, Melissa, Melissa you always loved your dear old dad, Melissa Melissa your in heaven now but don’t worry my daughter I will be there soon.”

The the song ended with the riff, a shave and a haircut two bits.

Pastor was back at the podium. “Wasn’t that beautiful. Thank you children for that wonderful rendition of what, I am sure, will be, a Sunday School classic. A wonderful homage by a father to his daughter. Buster Lee, with a little help from yours truly, reverently penned that masterpiece.”

Buster was sleeping

The Pastor continued despite the fact that Buster had started snoring. His big bulbous head looked like it was going to fall off his neck. “Next Melissa’s sister’s will sing the Leonard Cohen song, Hallelujah.”

I thought the kids were bad, it was nothing compared to these two song birds. They sang off key, out of time with the poor piano lady who lost her place and had to stop. I looked around and saw other people trying not to laugh. I guess she’d been gone so long nobody cared. I half expected someone to jump out of the coffin and yell, ‘Live From New York...’ The whole event was such a degrading spectacle, part of me wanted to laugh my ass off the other part wanted to cry. Devon put her arm around me and gave my shoulder a squeeze. “Sorry babe, probably not what you were expecting.”

“No, not really.”

“Before we leave,” the Pastor said, “I know these parents and two talented sisters are burning up inside.

Burning with grief over the loss of a loved one. Burning. Burning. Burning. Be gentle; let all who understand help extinguish that fire. Amen and amen. This joke pastor never offered a closing prayer. The service just came to an abrupt halt.

At the mention of burning Devon’s hand that had been resting comfortably in mine suddenly tightened. “Did you hear that, Jim? They’re doing a burning tonight.”

“A what?” I asked.

“A burning, Someone’s going to be put to death. Tonight.”

“I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“The preacher, who ever he is, announced it when he said, burn, burn, burn.”

“That was an announcement?”

“Sure as hell was. That was the signal. I knew there was something up with this guy when he didn’t introduce himself. This is the worst funeral service on the face of the earth; his only purpose in being here was to make that announcement.”

“I never heard of a burning before”

“You were probably protected from it.”

“Who was the message meant for?” I asked.

“All who understand. Family. Friends. Not out of town guests. You, me and all these California transplants.

“Then it wasn’t for me either because I don’t understand.”

“I understand. It would probably be a good idea to drive back to Logan tonight.”

“Okay. No Problems. I do have to meet with my brother though. I’m thinking about an hour.”

West stuck her head inside the empty chapel. “You two coming?” She asked.

“Yeah just a sec.” I said.

When we came out of the building the parking lot was almost empty except for mom, dad, Tom and West. “What’s the plan?” Dad asked.

“Tom and I have some business back at his office.”

“Great,” said West. “Just us three girls and dad.”

“Sounds like a plan. My best girl and my two favorite side chicks.” Said dad. "Word to your mother."

Mom and West thought dad was too funny but the look on Devon’s face was terror.

West caught the look. “What’s wrong Devon?”

Nothing, I’m just sticking with Jimmy. No disrespect.”

“None taken.” Said mom. “Give me a hug, sweetheart.”

They embraced. “Thanks for having me,” Devon said.

“Well thanks for doing my dishes.” Said Mom.

“My pleasure. Love you guys.”

After West stepped in for a hug my father said, “no hugs for daddy?”

“Oh shut up, dad,” said West. “You sound so creepy.”

Devon wrapped her arms around dad and squeezed. “I’ll miss you most of all scarecrow.” She said, quoting a line from the Wizard of Oz. “Because you remind me of your son.”

“Okay Dorothy” Said dad laughing and gently backing away.

Tom was suddenly looking very concerned. “Jimmy follow me to the office we’ll get you squared away in no time.”

“Thanks bro.”

The three of us sat in the conference room at Tom’s office. Tom got out the papers I had sent him and laid them out in front of us. A marriage license with the names, Melissa Tains and James Mallam.

There you go, Tom said. Still legal and binding.”

“You were married to her?” Devon asked in disbelief.

“We tied the knot in college.” I said.

Tom noticed Devon looking at me like she had just caught me cheating. “Devon, I didn’t know until last week. Our parents still don’t know.”

“Why the secrecy?” Asked Devon.

“We were afraid that if we let the rat out of the bag her dad would stop supporting her.”

“What about her husband supporting her?” Asked Tom. “You?”

“Neither one of us had any money, Tom.”

“When did you graduate?” Devon wanted to know.

“1973 through 1977. That was both of us?”

“And when did you get married?” She pulled the marriage license across the table, looked. “1975.”

“I can understand keeping it a secret for two years but 75 until 92 that’s seventeen years.”

“I can do the math.” I said. “We had our reasons.”

“Speaking as your brother and not your attorney, I’d like to know those reasons. I’m sure Devon would as well.”

“Our careers pulled us in two completely different directions. We were literally all over the world. We had an agreement to meet 4 times a year at a location that was halfway between where ever we were stationed.”

“For us that would be Quick Joe.” Devon said, sarcastically.

“What’s Quick Joe?” Asked Tom.

“The sight of our first date.” I said, trying unsuccessfully to hold Devon’s hand.

“That wasn’t a date.” Said Devon. “That was me paying for breakfast.”

“Or something.”

"It doesn’t sound like much of a way to conduct a marriage.” Tom said.

“We ain’t conducting no marriage.” Devon hollered.

“Wow! Your English goes to hell when you get mad.” I said.

“Ain’t the only thing going to hell, Mr. Mallum.”

“I didn’t mean you two, I meant him and Melissa” Tom fired back.

“Oh her. Manage, mourn and celebrate.”

Tom starts laughing remembering the funeral. Then Devon joins in, pretty soon they can’t contain themselves. The meeting is officially lost.

After they had both composed themselves, wiped the tears out of their eyes, Devon said, “I thought dad might join in, do a rap number,” and the two of them lost it all over again.

It was in that moment when Devon referred to my father as dad that I knew she was in it for the long haul. We were going to be okay.

“So where were we?” Tom asked.

“No way to run a marriage.” I said.

“Yeah the reason for the secrecy?” Asked Tom.

“I was receiving threats from certain terrorists groups. Not just me other reporters as well. We were instructed by the military to do whatever it took to protect our families. Some of these groups had cells in the United States. So I felt the best way to keep Melissa safe was to keep her a secret. But Mel was also in and out of unfriendly countries too, just part of her job. If you all knew half the stuff that went on you’d be shocked. More than shocked.”

“So this was all for protection?” Asked Tom.

“You bet it was. We didn’t spend money on things a normal married couple would spend money on. We had bags we kept packed, bullet proof vests, spare phones, code words incase either one of us got in trouble, safe houses where we could meet. We each had a coat with five grand sewn into the lining. Enough to bribe officials or whoever else we might need a favor from. While you were buying your first Cadillac I was bribing a guard to let a 14 year old girl out of jail so they wouldn’t execute her the next morning. And another thing you don’t know, the money I received from my first and second books went to mom and dad and Buster and Lisa to pay back the tuition money they had given us.”

“Serious?” Tom asked.

“As a heart attack.” I shouted. “I could write a book about things nobody knows.”

We all went quiet for a moment. I had gotten myself worked up. Who was Tom to judge me?

They both watched me for a few minutes “If people knew the things she had to do. That preacher was right about one thing, she was the best, Range had to offer.” My voice cracked, tears started to flow. Devon reached over, I pulled away. This moment, remembering Melissa, would be the last time I would spend with her. I needed quiet, needed to be alone with my thoughts, just me and Mel. We sat there for five minutes while I cried and dried my tears and cried some more. I asked her to forgive me for laughing through her memorial service. I closed my eyes, said a silent prayer for my lost love. Something the ghouls in this town never had the courtesy to do. I took a deep breath, wiped away the last tears I would ever shed. Finally. “Okay. I’m good.” I looked at Devon, smiled, gave her the car keys. “Let’s start a new chapter, shall we?”

Devon shot out of her chair and gave me a hug. “Jimmy, I’m here, always here.”

“I know babe.”

“Devon he must really love you.” Tom said. “He gave you his car keys.”

“There’s nothing I can’t drive, even this old scribe.”

“I’m really glad you two found each other.” Said Tom.

We sat back in our seats, relaxed again, relief. Our hands came together. Devon stretched her arm out and the sleeve on her blouse rode up exposing a tattoo on her wrist. I had seen it but hadn’t given it much thought. A hand holding a match. Tom saw it and rolled up his sleeve, he had an identical tattoo in the same spot on his wrist.

“A Fellow Dragon.” Said Devon. She extended her fist. They bumped.

Tom said, “get back as quickly as possible, once your over the state line nobody will be looking. But you probably already know that.”

“I’m aware.” Said Devon.