Annie’s father called at three. “I sent your present late. You won’t get it for a couple of days. You want me to tell you what it is?”
“Whatever it is, Dad, I’ll like it.”
“You’re too easy. How’s Leota doing?”
“Very well.”
“And you? Wearing yourself out?”
“I have plenty of help. I’ve told you about Corban.”
“And your mother? Does she help out, too?” When Annie remained silent, trying desperately to think of something to say that wouldn’t put her mother in a bad light, her father gave a derisive laugh. “Never mind, Annie. I know her better than that. What she can’t control, she chalks off as a complete loss.”
“Daddy . . .”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m always saying that to you, aren’t I?”
“How’s Monica?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen her since she moved out.”
Oh, dear. “How long ago was this?”
“Last month. I thought I mentioned it.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“She was pushing to get married. I’ve been down that road before and didn’t want to be on it again. A few years of living with your mother—”
“I don’t want to go down that road again either, Daddy.” He didn’t say anything to that, and she didn’t want to end the call on a sour note. “I miss you.”
“I miss you, too, honey. Maybe I’ll fly up in a couple of weeks.”
How many times had he promised to do that?
“You know you’re always welcome, Daddy.”
Nora and Fred pulled up in front of Leota’s house midafternoon on Christmas Day. Nora groaned audibly when she recognized Corban Solsek’s black sports car. “He’s here again.”
“Give the guy a chance,” Fred said, getting out of the car. He helped her out and took her hand as they went up the walkway and steps. Annie was outside on the porch waiting for them. She was smiling, her eyes shining.
“I’m so glad you came!”
Nora’s tension eased at the sight of her daughter. She looked so lovely in her long, green velour dress with a strand of pearls, her hair loose and curling over her shoulders. Nora looked for signs of strain, but saw only cheeks flushed with color and blue eyes shining with delight. And hope. It wasn’t until Nora returned the hug that she felt the change. “You’ve lost weight.”
“A couple pounds, I guess. Come in. It’s cold out here, and Grandma’s eager to see you both.”
Nora took note of the Christmas tree first. It was right by the front door so it could be seen through the window. It was trimmed beautifully with old-fashioned glass bulbs, elves, and tinsel. Unable to look at her mother yet, she glanced around the room, amazed at the freshly painted walls, the polished furniture, the old carpet that now looked new, the table with pine branches and scented candles. A fire was crackling. The house no longer had that old smell of decay. It was filled with the pine scent of Christmas. Had the memories of this house not been so painful, she would’ve been utterly charmed by it.
“Corban bought the tree for us,” Anne said. “And he helped string lights along the eaves across the front and along the side of the house by the drive. I put lights all through the garden. It looks like a winter wonderland at night. I’ll plug them in as soon as it’s dark enough so you can see it.”
“Wait until you get the electric bill.” Fred laughed as he bent down to talk quietly with Leota.
Nora hung back. She had avoided looking at her mother for as long as possible, and now that she did, her heart sank. She looked so old. One side of her face sagged slightly.
“Who gave you the VCR?” Fred said.
“Uncle George sent it to Grandma,” Anne said.
Mortified, Nora wished she could hide the box of chocolate-covered cherries she had brought as a gift. What on earth was George thinking? Last year he’d sent a box of groceries. Actually, Jeanne had sent it. George didn’t even bother to sign his name on the Christmas cards. Their cards always came with George and Jeanne signed at the bottom, in Jeanne’s handwriting. And now this? A VCR? Were they trying to make her look bad?
“Do you need help hooking it up?” Fred looked eager at the idea.
Anne laughed and gave a slight shrug. “Actually, we can’t. Grandma’s TV was purchased before VCRs were invented.”
“Oh, well, that’s no problem. We’ll get her a new set. Nora and I were wondering what to get you, Leota. Now we know.”
Touched by his quick rescue, Nora slipped her hand into his. “You’re looking much better than last I saw you,” she said to her mother, then felt the heat climbing into her cheeks. She hadn’t been to visit since her mother had left the hospital.
Leota let the evening flow around her. When Eleanor followed Annie into the kitchen, Leota could only pray her daughter wouldn’t say something hurtful to Annie. They were like opposite sides of a coin. Eleanor took offense at the least provocation; Annie let everything slide. Eleanor was the warrior set on battling life into submission; Annie was a peacemaker, living with the hurt, swallowing the insulting remarks, and trying to rise above it and move forward.
I tried to do that, Lord. Maybe that’s why watching the dynamics of their relationship makes me want to take a page from Eleanor’s book. Oh, what I would say to her now if I had the tongue to do it!
Maybe if she’d spoken up, maybe if she’d defended herself instead of keeping silent . . . Silence didn’t always bring peace. Allowing someone to behave disrespectfully more often made them rude and demanding of others.
I thought I was letting Eleanor vent her frustration and that would be the end of it. Instead, her life has been focused on discontent and disappointment. I would love to be able to go back and sit down with her when she was a little girl and teach her all over again. I’d say, “This is what’s happening. This is the truth. This is what needs to be done. Join forces with me and your grandmother and grandfather and let’s work together to keep this family together!”
Instead, she had tried to do it alone.
For what? For the glory? To be a martyr? To show herself how much better she was than poor Helene Reinhardt, who had to piece together the whole sorry mess by herself without any help from Leota or Papa?
Lord, forgive me.
Leota heard Eleanor and Annie talking.
“Why is Mother crying?” Eleanor was asking quietly, sounding uncomfortable.
“The stroke makes it difficult to contain her emotions,” Annie said just as quietly.
They were acting as though her hearing had failed along with her ability to walk without clinging to someone or something! Oh, Lord, You have frustrated me! I can’t talk clearly enough to make myself understood. Except by Annie. She’s just like a young mother who understands the gibberish of her toddling child. And that’s what I’ve become. Blabbering what I can while I hang on to my walker. Lord, I’d yell at You for allowing this to happen to me if I didn’t think Eleanor and George would think I was crazy and make sure I was put away for good!
A VCR. For heaven’s sake, what was George thinking? And now Fred was offering a television. Along with the box of chocolates Eleanor was trying to hide on the side table. I wonder if she thinks I have adult-onset diabetes . . . and she’s going to kill me with kindness. Sadly, Leota could guess why they were being so generous all of a sudden. Would they be so munificent if they knew everything was already settled and filed with an attorney?
I’m not being fair. I’m wallowing in self-pity and making myself sick! I know Jeanne. And I know Fred. And they are both good and generous people. It’s my children who can’t see past themselves!
Lord, I can’t think this way. For Annie’s sake, I have to lift my chin up and take whatever comes. But I’ll tell You this. I’m tired of turning the other cheek. In fact, I’m sick to death of it.
Things didn’t get easier for Leota as the day wore on. In fact, things became more complicated. Corban didn’t like Eleanor, a
nd he made no effort to hide his feelings. Annie tried to make conversation, but only Fred helped keep it going. Then Sam and Susan arrived, and Eleanor’s hackles went up. She was like a German shepherd with a salesman trapped on the front porch; it was a sight to see. Sam couldn’t blink an eye without Eleanor observing the nuance. He certainly wasn’t making his feelings a secret, either. Every time he looked at Annie, the expression on his face declared, I’m in love with this girl. All of which only served to madden Eleanor all the more.
Lin Sansan Ng, Do Weon, and Kim stopped by, and not long after came Juanita, Jorge, Marisa, Elena, and Raoul.
Eleanor kept moving down the sofa until she was squeezed into a corner, and while Fred joined in the general conversation, Eleanor moved herself all the way to the outside edge of the family circle.
“Chris said to thank you for the information you gave him the other day,” Juanita told Annie. “He said the group sounded the most hopeful. Miles is declining rapidly.”
Eleanor looked at Annie. “Who are Chris and Miles?”
“They live in the house four doors down on the other side of the street,” Annie explained. “Miles is very sick.”
“AIDS,” Juanita said sadly.
Leota saw Eleanor blanch. She could just imagine what was going on in Eleanor’s mind. Her daughter, Annie, was living in a mixed-race ghetto with an old lady on her last legs, who would linger for who knew how long, and now, her innocent little girl was mixing with homosexuals as well!
“AIDS?” Eleanor stared.
“Annie met them a few weeks ago.”
Eleanor’s gaze swung to Annie, fierce with silent demand.
“They’re estranged from their families. Miles is dying, Mother. I don’t agree with their lifestyle, but they are neighbors and they need our help.”
“Your hands are full already, Anne-Lynn. All day, every day, for who knows how long.”
Annie blushed. Her eyes became fierce with warning. “I fix extra portions and take them dinner a couple of times a week. It’s no big deal.”
Leota couldn’t allow this to go on. “I gave Annie permission to do it.” Miraculously, her words were clear enough for Eleanor to understand.
Eleanor lunged forward so that she sat on the edge of the sofa, her hands like open claws on her knees. “It’s all very well for you to be magnanimous at Annie’s expense, Mother. You’re over eighty. You’ve lived a full life. Don’t you care what risks my daughter takes? It’s not enough that she’s living here with you in this crime-infested neighborhood, but you put her in contact with AIDS!”
“Mother!”
Leota used every ounce of willpower she possessed not to cry. Crying would only make things a hundred times worse. Besides, she understood Eleanor’s fierceness. Hadn’t she felt the same way about her children when Mama Reinhardt was dividing their loyalties?
Is that what I’ve done, Lord?
Annie stood stricken, looking back and forth as the battle raged around her. The poor girl was standing between the two firing lines, not sure where to find safety. It was always the innocent who were killed.
“What’s not right?” Corban’s face flushed with temper as he stared at Eleanor. “That, unlike you, Annie has a heart? That, unlike you, she’s capable of loving someone else more than herself?”
“Now, just a minute!” Fred rose suddenly, like a knight in shining armor to shield his wife.
Eleanor aimed her animosity at Corban. “This is none of your business! Who are you anyway? What do you think you’re going to get by coming over here and kissing up to my mother?”
Corban’s face turned dark red. “It seems to me it’s none of your business either, Mrs. Gaines. You bowed out of Leota’s life a long time ago, and Annie’s an adult. She can make her own decisions.”
“Stop it!” Annie covered her face and started to cry. “Just stop it! All of you.” She fled to the kitchen.
Eleanor’s face convulsed briefly. To anyone else, it was just a flicker, but Leota saw straight into her hurting child. It was like a crack in a concrete wall around a garden. Just a second’s glimpse—but she saw that a storm had ripped away at the landscape. Oh, my child, my poor child. Then the mortar of old resentments was poured in to repair the wall. Leota could feel Eleanor’s gaze fix upon her in accusation. “Maybe this gathering wasn’t such a good idea after all.”
Corban’s eyes flashed. “Maybe the list should’ve been cut by two!” He followed Annie into the kitchen. Embarrassed, Juanita quickly gathered her children, as did Lin Sansan. They went out through the kitchen, making their exit quietly. Leota knew they would make apologies to Annie before leaving.
Oh, God, my family, my precious family. Help us. We are torn asunder. The enemy has laid waste to us.
Sam sat in stony silence, his eyes on fire. Susan’s chin jutted, tears running down her face, her eyes fixed on Eleanor. “Why do you always do this to Annie? For as long as I’ve known her, she’s worked so hard to win your approval. Nothing pleases you.”
“That’s not true.” Eleanor was trembling—Leota saw it in her hands, heard it in her voice. All eyes were on Eleanor now. It was ever thus. As you sow, so shall you then reap. The one condemning the loudest eventually received the condemnation. Water didn’t run uphill, and Eleanor was drowning.
Helpless to do anything and unable to watch, Leota turned her face to the wall and wept.
The pains Leota had felt off and on over the past two years came again that night. She didn’t ring the little bell Annie had put on her side table. She couldn’t bear the thought of summoning Annie after such a devastating Christmas Day. The poor girl had wanted everything to be perfect. She had worked so hard, prayed so long. Now she needed rest. The pain eased by morning.
When Annie came in, Leota said she wanted to sleep longer. Annie looked troubled and asked questions, but Leota lied and said everything was fine. She said she had been having such a wonderful dream.
She couldn’t bring herself to add to her granddaughter’s misery by telling her that something was very, very wrong.
Chapter 23
Annie noticed the change in her grandmother in the days following Christmas. She was always restless, shifting her body every minute or two as though no position was comfortable. Though Grandma had often been cranky since the stroke, she was more cranky than usual. Either her speech had improved greatly, or Annie was getting used to it and could more easily understand her. At first, it was funny the way Grandma Leota would talk at the television, telling the news commentator what was wrong with his shortsighted, canned presentation or that his views were “idiotic.” It was when Grandma started talking cremation that Annie became alarmed. Annie tried to turn her conversation away from death, but Grandma Leota was fixed upon it. “Put me in the bulbs. They need bonemeal.”
Annie called the doctor despite Grandma Leota’s protests.
“I won’t go!” Grandma Leota said, chin jutting. She was irascible, but Annie couldn’t pretend everything was all right this time.
“Oh, yes, you will. Something’s wrong, Grandma. I want the doctor to check you over.”
“Nothing’s wrong!”
“You’re in pain! I know you are. You try to hide it from me, but I can tell.”
Grandma tried charm, smiling and patting Annie’s hand. “It’s just my arthritis, sweetheart. I’m not a green sprout anymore. I’m ripe and ready for plucking.”
Annie refused to give in. “The doctor might be able to give you something to make you more comfortable.”
“I won’t go! I won’t! You’ll have to carry me out of this house!”
Annie called Corban. He came the next morning, ignored Grandma Leota’s vehement protests and downright abuse, lifted her from her wheelchair, and carried her out to Annie’s car.
“It’s a good thing her right arm is useless,” Corban said, straightening. “I think she’d’ve given me a black eye.”
Nora knew something was wrong when she heard the back door from th
e garage open. Fred never came home this early in the day. “What is it? What’s happened?”
“Annie called me at the office. Your mother is in the hospital again.”
Nora’s heart sank. Was this the way it was going to be from here on? Her daughter unable to speak to her? Her daughter calling Fred so he could relay messages? “Another stroke?”
“The doctor thinks it could be cancer. She’s undergoing tests.”
Nora wilted against the back of her chair. Cancer! How was she going to face this when her life was already turning upside down? Her head ached. Her stomach was in turmoil. She felt sick in body and in spirit. She hadn’t felt right since that awful Christmas Day. She should have stayed home rather than subject herself to such an emotional beating. Everyone had been against her. All because Annie had run to the kitchen in tears over something she’d said. And then her mother had cried.
What did I say? I can’t even remember what I said to bring all that on. You’d have thought I was a dog making a mess on the living room rug the way they all looked at me.
The tongue is like a fire . . .
Oh, Lord, what did I say? Sometimes, when I’m so upset I can’t think straight, I say things and then I can’t even remember what I said.
Is that an excuse?
“I think we should go, Nora.”
“The last thing I want to do is look at my mother in another hospital bed.”
“Would you rather look at her in a coffin?”
Nora recoiled. “How can you say something like that?”
“Because you may not have much time left.”
She searched his eyes. “Just what did Annie say?” Was he keeping something from her?
“Exactly what I’ve told you, but I have the feeling time is almost up.”
“My time?” Why did he have to look at her like that? As though he could see inside her and understand things about her that she didn’t even understand. She looked away, uncomfortable beneath his perusal. “I don’t know what you mean.”