Leota's Garden

  Along with the dress was a pair of scuffed white Mary Jane shoes for a baby.

  Leota held the items of clothing in her lap and wept.

  Chapter 6

  Leota peered through the window in the front door and saw Corban Solsek standing on her front porch. Why was he back? Was it Wednesday already? Couldn’t be. Annie said she was coming for another visit on Monday. Her classes were on Tuesdays and Thursday and Friday evenings.

  She opened the door and noticed the spiral notebook he was holding. “You’re a few days early, aren’t you?”

  “I wanted to talk with you, Mrs. Reinhardt. If you have a few minutes.”

  “I think I have a few to spare.” She opened the door for him. “Well, come on in,” she said when he hesitated. She could tell how much he was looking forward to this visit. His mouth was a hard, flat line. He didn’t look nervous; he looked annoyed. “Get it off your chest, whatever it is.” He was probably going to tell her she was an old coot and he didn’t have time for her folderol. A pity. He might have learned something from her if he’d been willing. Then again, she had to admit she might have learned something from him as well if he didn’t irritate her so much with his know-it-all attitude. Every time she looked at his sanctimonious face, she wanted to box his ears.

  “Can we sit down?” he said when he was standing in the living room.

  Apparently whatever was on his mind wasn’t going to take just a minute or two to sort out. She looked at the notebook again. “Are you planning to take notes?”

  “If you don’t mind.”

  “What if I said I did?”

  His jaw clenched and unclenched. “I wouldn’t do it.”

  “No. I imagine you’d wait until you got back to wherever it is you live and then write it all down the way you want it to be.”

  His eyes darkened. “Look, you’ve made it more than clear you don’t like me. I’ve never been able to figure out what’s the problem.”

  “Haven’t you? I’ll give you a hint. You have the manners of a goat in a produce market.”

  He stared at her, mouth agape. “I wouldn’t call you Miss Manners.”

  Leota laughed. She closed the front door and looked at him. She laughed some more.

  “What’s so funny?”

  The poor boy was practically snarling. She continued to chortle as she walked past him to her chair and sat down. Pulling a Kleenex from its box, she wiped her eyes. “Well, now, I’d say that’s the first honest thing you’ve said to me since you darkened my doorstep.”

  Corban stared at the woman, not knowing what to say.

  “At least you have the good graces to blush,” she said, merciless.

  He shook his head and sat on the edge of the sofa. “Maybe it would help if I told you a little about myself.”

  “It’d be better if you told me what you wanted in the first place.”

  He felt oddly ashamed, but what for? He was trying to help the elderly, wasn’t he? He frowned slightly, unable to hold her gaze. Her calm troubled him. She was looking at him, and he had the uncomfortable feeling she was seeing deeper into him than anyone ever had, seeing things even he wasn’t aware of.

  “Get to the point, Mr. Solsek.”

  “I’m a student at UC Berkeley. I’m working on a term paper for a sociology class. I need a case study.”

  “Just one?”

  He nodded. “My professor’s made it a requirement.”

  “What’s the subject of your paper?”

  “It’s on some ideas I have about caring for the increased number of elderly in our nation.”

  “Extermination, perhaps?”

  He tried not to be insulted. She sure knew how to push his buttons.

  “All right.” She smiled wryly. “So, what is this idea of yours?”

  “An expansion of residential-care facilities in high-density population areas. The idea is twofold: care for the elderly and renewed life to the inner cores of our cities. The government could subsidize the takeover of some of the old office buildings and hotels in the inner cities, refurbish them and convert them into residential-care facilities. Occupants would pay a lump sum in order to live at the care facility for the rest of their lives. One floor could be a medical facility. Another could be for recreational activity. Of course, this is just a quick summary. There would be all kinds of services offered under this kind of system.”

  He looked at her again, watching, hoping for some sign of affirmation. What he got was a deadpan stare.

  Leota leaned back, all humor gone. How could someone bright enough to get into Berkeley be so naive? “Would occupants have visitation rights?”

  His mouth flattened. “I’m not designing a prison system, Mrs. Reinhardt. Of course, visitors would be welcome. There’d be guest accommodations available for a limited time and for a small fee.”

  “What if someone wanted to move out of the facility?”

  “It’d be unlikely anyone would want to leave.”

  “Especially if the initial investment was nonrefundable. Or used up.” Or if the attendants put sedatives in the food!

  He frowned. “The point is all occupants would be given the highest level of care during the latter part of their lives. They would have a safe environment, the security of good care, comfortable surroundings, communal interaction. Many don’t have that now.”

  “Someone like me, you mean. Someone in an inner-city neighborhood, living on Social Security. Someone old, with declining health and little, if any, family support.”

  Corban sat back on the sofa and smiled. “Yes, someone like you.”

  “How old is your professor, Mr. Solsek?”

  “Why are you asking?”

  “I think he has something else in mind for you to learn. If I could hazard a guess, I would say he’s in his sixties.”

  “Close, I guess. Why?”

  “The poor fellow is looking ahead to retirement and his declining years. He’s probably horrified at the thought of someone like you deciding what will happen to him.”

  Corban’s face went red; his eyes blazed with temper. “That’s a cheap shot! I’m wasting my time here. What do you know about the way things are now? You’re locked up in this decaying house all day watching game shows and Brady Bunch reruns! The most fun you have is tormenting the checkers at the supermarket.” He stood up, tucked his spiral notebook under his arm, and headed for the door.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’m leaving. What does it look like? I’ve wasted three weeks coming over here, hoping to get to know you. I’ll call Nancy and tell her to find you another volunteer.”

  “Well, now, there’s an attitude to open minds and hearts.”

  The fire in his eyes died, and Leota almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

  “I’ve got eight weeks to write this report, Mrs. Reinhardt.” He sounded weary and depressed. “I need someone who’s willing to give and take.”

  She knew what part of that he thought she was. He was blind as a mole in a tunnel. And troubled about it. That was a good sign. Was his despair merely because of his report, or was there more going on in his life than a sociology class? Maybe he didn’t even know what was bothering him. He was barely out of adolescence. How could he? “If you’ll sit, I’ll give my opinion on what you’ve told me so far.”

  He frowned, looking decidedly wary. “I can guess.”

  When she didn’t say anything, he slowly returned to the sofa and sat. “Okay. Go ahead.”

  He had all the enthusiasm of a man with an apple on his head with her in possession of the bow and arrows. “I’m speaking my opinion now. It can’t be taken as gospel on the general geriatric population, you know.”

  He nodded, grim-faced.

  “I would find it daunting to live in a building inhabited solely by old folks.”

  He leaned forward. “Not everyone in the building would be old, Mrs. Reinhardt. There would be nurses and doctors, maids and cooks, recreation directors—”

&n
bsp; She held up her hand to stop the flow. “Let’s put it this way, Mr. Solsek. I would find it daunting if the only young people I ever saw were those who were paid by the government to attend to my needs.” He looked confused. “I’ll leave you to think about that one. Before you leave, I have a question for you, and I don’t want an answer today. I want you to think about it and tell me on Wednesday. That is, if you decide to come back.”

  “Go ahead,” he said cautiously.

  “Why do you want to house old people like me in a government-funded facility and keep us away from the rest of society?”

  “Partially funded, Mrs.—”

  “Wednesday, Mr. Solsek. Think about it.”

  Corban stood up slowly. Leota saw the struggle going on in his face. No less a struggle than what was going on inside herself at that moment. His ideas troubled her. She recognized the foundation he was building from. Clearly, he didn’t. Telling him would do no good. He wouldn’t believe it if she did. Could she make him see it for himself? Probably not. He was far too sure of himself. The young were always on fire to make a better world.

  Oh, God, is this the way it starts?

  “I’ll make a deal with you,” she said. “If you’re willing to give me an honest answer on Wednesday, I’ll answer whatever questions you intended to ask me the first day you came here.”

  Corban studied her. He didn’t look happy with her proposition. Maybe he thought she just wanted to keep him coming around for her convenience. Of course, there was something to that.

  “I haven’t got a lot of time to waste, Mrs. Reinhardt.”

  “Neither have I, Mr. Solsek.” She had never suffered fools gladly, but she felt an inner nudging where this one was concerned. How much did he know about the way the world really was? Maybe it was compassion that drove him. All the more reason to light the lamps and let some light shine into that dark mind of his. A little at a time so he wouldn’t be blinded by it.

  And it’s up to You anyway, isn’t it, Lord?

  Corban let out his breath slowly and rose. Calmly, this time. Tucking his spiral notebook under his arm again, he went to the door and opened it. Pausing, he looked back at her. “I’ll think it over and talk to you on Wednesday.”

  “God willing, I’ll still be here.”

  Leota worried all day Sunday. Despite what her granddaughter had said, Leota didn’t think Annie was coming back.

  Over the years, she had invited Eleanor numerous times to Thanksgiving dinner, Christmas, Easter, her birthday. Sometimes Eleanor would say that sounded nice and she’d bring the family; then she’d call later and say she couldn’t make it after all. She always had a reason: one of the children was sick; her husband had to work; unexpected friends had called and would be arriving for the weekend. The underlying message had always been loud as a trumpet: You weren’t there for me, so why should I be there for you? When Eleanor did come, she spent the entire time looking for anything she could seize upon to dredge up the past and point out yet again her mother’s many faults.

  Lord, I know I wasn’t perfect, but I tried so hard.

  Time hadn’t helped Eleanor see the truth about anything. Leota had even hoped the arrival of children might open Eleanor’s eyes so she could see the wider scope of how life is less than perfect. No such luck. Eleanor was a master at controlling her life and the lives of her loved ones. She made sure she was always home when the children were. She made sure they had everything they needed. No thrift store clothing for her children. Macy’s and Capwell’s. No day-old bread. Three square meals a day, apportioned so that there wouldn’t be weight or skin problems. No home remedies when tummyaches hit. Only a medical doctor would do, and a professional counselor if things became difficult emotionally.

  Leota wanted desperately to believe all the lame excuses. She wanted to ignore the slights and pretend she hadn’t heard the words designed to cut. The few times she had attempted to defend herself, Eleanor had left without hearing her out.

  Leota had finally wearied of it. She hadn’t called Eleanor once last year. She had received four perfunctory calls: one for Christmas, one for Easter, one for her birthday, and one for Thanksgiving. Mother’s Day came and went without a card or call.

  A card had come each holiday from her son. Love, George and Jeanne—it was Jeanne who signed the cards and addressed them. Those few times Leota saw George, there was no bitterness in his attitude. He was just caught in his own world and his own worries.

  He was more like Bernard than he would ever realize.

  Lord, I have to believe or I’ll know there’s no hope of reconciliation. I’ve dreamed for so long of a close relationship with my children and grandchildren, but did Annie come and just stir up hope? It hurts. I just keep thinking about all the lost years.

  Would Annie call and say she was sorry but she wouldn’t be coming? Young people had such busy lives these days. Places to go. Things to see. Interesting people to meet. Why would a beautiful eighteen-year-old girl want to spend time with an old woman?

  Leota tried to read her Bible to take her mind off her worries, but she couldn’t concentrate. The telephone rang once at six o’clock. The sound always startled her. She received so few calls. This time the ringing of the telephone filled her with a sense of dread and despair as never before. She let it ring four times before she answered, and it was several seconds before she realized the voice on the telephone wasn’t her granddaughter but some saleswoman. She was so relieved, she listened. Usually, she hung up before they finished the first sentence of their spiel. This evening, she couldn’t stop thinking about Annie. What if her granddaughter had to make a living doing telephone solicitations?

  When the woman finally ran down on her memorized sales pitch, given in double time, and asked whether she was interested in this wonderful offer, Leota said, “You did that very nicely, dear, but I’m an old lady living on Social Security. I don’t even have a CD player.”

  “Oh.” She sighed. “I’m sorry I took up your time, ma’am.”

  “I hope you’ll have more luck with your next call.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.” The poor girl sounded almost teary. “You know, you’re the first person tonight who’s been polite to me.”

  “Don’t give me too much credit, dear. I usually hang up.”

  The saleswoman gave a soft laugh. “Most people do. I’ve had ten people hang up so hard they left my ear ringing, and several others who’ve cussed me out. Comes with the territory. Anyway, thanks for listening, ma’am. I hope you have a pleasant evening.”

  “I hope you find another job.”

  The woman laughed. “So do I!”

  Leota hung up gently and let out her breath. She read her Bible for another half an hour before putting it aside and giving up on it. She knew what it said, but it was hard to dwell on the good sometimes. She turned on the television, checked every channel, and shut it off.

  What was she going to do with all those Toll House cookies if Annie didn’t come? She had baked three dozen. They tasted pretty good, too. She had tried one just to make sure she hadn’t botched the recipe. After all, it had been three years since she last baked them.

  The telephone rang again at seven thirty. She let it ring and ring before answering, sensing this time it would be Annie.

  “Grandma Leota? I hope I didn’t wake you.”

  “I don’t usually go to bed until after the ten o’clock news.”

  “Oh. Good. What time do you get up?”

  Leota had awakened at five thirty every morning for years. She had hoped to get over the habit, but years of rising early to have enough time to get ready and catch a bus to work had set a routine. Her alarm clock had broken years ago, but her eyes still popped open at the same time every day. Her routine never varied. Awake at five thirty, up at six, take a bath, get dressed, fix breakfast and sit down to read her Bible, read the newspaper, and do her crossword puzzle for the day. Always in that order. Since having to give up her gardening, Leota found that the
rest of her day was an agony of boredom.

  I’m waiting to die, Lord. That’s all I’m doing.

  “Grandma?”

  “I’m dressed and about by seven thirty.”

  “Oh. Good. Would it be all right if I came earlier?”

  “Earlier?”

  “Well, I thought about coming over around the same time I did before, around one, but I’d rather come in the morning and stay for the day. Would that be all right? I’ll bring lunch.”

  Leota didn’t know what to say. All day? Oh, my, all day!

  “Grandma? If you’d rather I waited until later, it’s all right.”

  “Oh, no. The earlier, the better. And you don’t have to bring anything. Just yourself.”

  Annie gave a soft laugh filled with apparent relief. “I’m so glad, Grandma Leota. I’ve been looking forward to this for days.”

  Leota put her hand against her heart. Oh, my dear, I’ve been looking forward to this for years! “I made cookies.”

  “Did you?” Annie’s voice sounded husky when she continued. “How long since you’ve had Chinese food, Grandma Leota?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Years and years.”

  “There’s a great deli on the corner not far from us, and they have the best Chinese food in the world. I’ll bring lunch. I promise, you’ll love it.” She sounded so excited. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

  Leota sat for a long time in her chair, relishing the feelings. Then the little worries started up again. What if Annie got into an accident? What if she got mugged going to the deli? What if . . . ?

  Oh, Lord, keep her safe. I hear San Francisco is like Sodom and Gomorrah these days. It’s not the same city it used to be when Cosma and I would have to dress up to go there. We even wore hats and gloves. From what she’d heard at the grocery store, the traffic was awful these days. Drug addicts were everywhere, looking for easy prey to steal money. Leota frowned. Was it just yesterday she’d read that there were fourteen thousand homeless in San Francisco, and many were addicts of one sort or another? God, please, keep Annie safe. Don’t let any harm come to her. Put angels around her.