Moose and Goose

Chapter Sixty-seven

Judith lifts her shaky hands to her collar and tugs it off her chest, staring at it through blurry vision. The cologne lingers on the fabric, and as she presses it to her nose and inhales, she allows her mind to take her to her happy place.

"Why do I get the feeling that it's you that'll end up in Hollywood or history tablets," she remembers Walter asking despite the overwhelming sound of crickets rattling near them.

She sat with him on the edge of a pier overlooking a clear creek lined with trees, clutching her fishing rod and waiting for something to bite.

"I'm too ambitious for that life," she told him. "Maybe if I was simple- singing a song like Shirley Temple or acting like Marilyn Monroe, I could do it, but I wanna do everything."

"Well, next week, when you turn eighteen, how's about we go to California?" Judith turned her head to Walter and smiled at the sight of his grin. "I'm serious. You convince your mother, and I'll take you myself. It'll be our father-daughter road trip like we used to have."

Before she could respond, she was jerked forward, and her eyes grew wide as she lost control of the fishing pole. Walter stared in surprise as she fell into the shallow water, only to push herself to her feet with a dripping pompadour and curls.

Hyperventilating, she stands to her feet and trudges toward her bedside. Judith lowers herself under the warmth and security of her thick blanket, and through a burning breath, she yells, "Mom!"

She whimpers as her face hits the pillow and calls for her again. Soon after, she hears the faint sound of her running down the hall.

"What's wrong," Sheryl asks in a rush, concern etched on her face. Seeing her curled into the fetal position and trembling as if she were cold, Sheryl approaches Judy and sits beside her.

"Why does everyone I love die," Judith asks Sheryl, and when her voice cracks, she bursts into tears. "Why is God punishing me?"

"It's not about you, Judy, though I know it feels that way." She tucks her daughter's hair behind her right ear. "When your father - I didn't process it like I should've. Instead of allowing myself to grieve, I shut down any twinge of sadness so I could be the strength the three of you needed, and for that, I'm sorry."

Judith sniffles and Sheryl runs her fingers through her daughter's hair.

Tell her about Morehead.

"Truth is, I felt alone," Sheryl goes on with her speech. "Raising y'all was hard when he was here because he worked so much, but now that he's gone, it's harder. That's why I'm glad we're moving to New York."

Sheryl forces a smile, but when Judith doesn't do the same, she gradually relaxes her face.

"I got a scholarship for the school in Morehead," Judith quickly confesses, and Sheryl flicks her eyes from left to right in thought. "A man named Reverend Doctor Ahmed heard about the protest, and he offered me and my friends a full ride."

"When'd you find out," Sheryl asks, and Judy lowers her gaze, then returns her attention to her mother. She takes a deep breath and asks, "Why'd you wait 'til now to tell me?"

"Because I was afraid you'd be mad at me. Plus, I didn't wanna go and leave Stevie and Vera." Sheryl sits her hand on her daughter's cheek and wipes her tears with her thumb.

"Your brother and sister will be fine. I know I'm hard on them, but my Mom will help keep them out of trouble," she assures her.

"What about grandpa," Judy asks, and Sheryl knits her eyebrows. "Is he helping?"