“Arnie, I didn’t tell them any of that.”
“Oh. I thought women always told each other about their female problems.”
Elina stared into her empty teacup.
“Hysterectomy?” Penny ventured after the pause seemed to have siphoned all the air from the room.
Elina nodded. “Three months ago.”
“Four,” Arnie corrected her. “Time for her to feel herself again, wouldn’t you say?”
“Not necessarily,” Penny said. “A friend of mine from work took a full six months before she was feeling normal, and that was after some creative hormone therapy.”
The air didn’t seem to be returning to the room because none of us had anything to add to Penny’s comment.
Except Penny.
“I have an idea.”
I closed my eyes and waited. I didn’t even have to check her eyebrows to guess what she was going to say.
“Why don’t you come with us, Elina? If Arnie is going to be home for the next few days, why don’t the three of us head up to Warrington in the morning?”
Elina said, “You can’t be serious.”
“Of course I’m serious. A train ride to Warrington would do you good, don’t you think? If we feel like it, we might go on up to Scotland.” Penny tapped my arm. “What do you think, Sharon?”
I honestly thought it was a good idea. Not necessarily the part about flitting off to Scotland, but the idea of including Elina. After the way Elina had opened up to us, I felt sympathy for her. She was a mom. Everyone depended on her. I knew what that was like. She had been through a lot during the past few months, including surgery and a job loss. If I were Elina, I’d want to get away from home for a few days.
I leaned forward so that Elina looked me in the eye. With a smile I said, “I think it’s a great idea. Come on, Elina. Come with us. Just for a few days.”
Penny graciously let it be known that she was, of course, paying for the train, meals, and all accommodations. After that announcement, Elina entered into the moment with more animation and sparkle.
“This is crazy!” Elina grinned from ear to ear.
“Yep!” Penny said. “Crazy like a daisy!”
I laughed, knowing oh so well the feeling of having Penny swish into your life and take you on an unexpected escapade. That was Penny’s gift to me, and now it would be her gift to her cousin. Elina was being scooped up from the ordinary and catapulted over the moon.
This time, I was the little dog laughing to see such sport.
Seventeen
Penny, Elina, and I stayed up until almost midnight discussing our options. Arnie lasted for the first half hour and then went upstairs to bed. Penny tried to call Monique again around ten o’clock. She got the answering machine but didn’t leave another message.
“I don’t have a problem just heading up to Warrington tomorrow morning,” Penny said. “If Monique is home, great. If not, we can get back on the train and keep going until we hit Scotland.”
Elina turned to me. “Is this the way the two of you planned your trip over here?”
“Pretty much,” I said.
“We’re at God’s mercy,” Penny said.
Elina didn’t comment.
“It’s not as scary as it sounds,” I assured her.
“Have you ever been to Warrington?” Penny asked Elina.
“No.”
“What about Scotland?”
“Yes, I’ve been to Glasgow and Edinburgh twice.”
“What about Greece?” Penny suddenly popped out.
“What about Greece?” Elina asked.
“Have you ever been to Greece?”
“No.”
“Neither have I.”
In the short pause that followed, Penny looked at me, and I shook my head ever so slightly.
“What about—” Penny began.
I jumped in. “What about Liverpool?”
“I’ve not been to Liverpool, either,” Elina said.
“What’s in Liverpool?” Penny asked.
I pressed my lips together and then decided to spill my idea. A photo in front of Tony Slavin’s barbershop couldn’t be compared with the Aegean Sea, I knew, but Liverpool was so much more practical.
Practical? Listen to me! As if any part of this trip has been practical!
“Here’s my idea,” I said looking at Elina, hoping to garner her support in case Penny needed convincing. “I thought of this earlier today at the airport, but I didn’t want to tell Penny because I was trying to figure out how I could make it a surprise.”
“A surprise?” I definitely had Penny’s attention.
“Yes. I wanted to surprise you for once. I thought of this while we were going through customs. Do you remember how the officer was singing to you about Penny Lane?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Well, that’s why I wanted to buy the tour book. I wanted to find out where your street, Penny Lane, is located.”
“There’s a real Penny Lane?” Penny asked.
“Of course there’s a real Penny Lane,” Elina said. “The one from the song. It’s in Liverpool.”
“Liverpool,” Penny repeated. “Really? How did I miss that bit of trivia? I thought Abbey Road was real and Penny Lane was made up.”
“Apparently Penny Lane is a real street.” I felt more hip than I should have. “The customs officer told me that the barbershop is still there, too. You know, the one from the song.”
Penny’s eyes began to twinkle. “We could go to Liverpool …”
“… and get a picture of you on Penny Lane,” I finished the thought for her. “Wouldn’t that be a great souvenir?”
Penny started to cry.
I was so surprised I didn’t know what to do.
“It’s a clever idea,” Elina said to me. “Don’t you think so, Penny?”
“I love it. It’s … it’s so fitting for the summary of my life.”
I wasn’t sure why Penny was being melodramatic. I felt like the only levelheaded woman stuck between two hormonehyped, premenopausal maidens. I was secretly relieved that Penny loved my idea and wasn’t on the phone right now arranging a flight for us to Greece. Or to Egypt for a quick float down the Nile. Liverpool was doable.
The three of us exchanged gleeful grins. Elina’s face was lit up with escapade sparkles.
The sparkle remained the next morning after she saw her children out the door on their way to school. Packed and ready, the three of us waited for our taxi to arrive.
I was so proud of Penny. She had trimmed her luggage down to one bag and had left the rest of her things in tidy piles on the floor in the girls’ bedroom. One of the stacks of nice clothes, she said, was going to stay with Elina if she wanted it.
I found it soothing to follow someone through the train station who was familiar with the system and knew where she was going. Elina was strong like her mother and took longlegged strides ahead of both of us. She shoved her luggage onto the top shelf of the luggage carrier and settled into a backward facing seat on the train. Penny and I sat across from her. The slight grin on Elina’s face hadn’t left since the invitation had been extended to her the night before.
As the train started to roll, Elina pulled out a deck of playing cards and challenged Penny to a game of hearts. “You aren’t really a true relative,” Elina taunted, “unless you can go the distance with one of us in a card game.”
Penny agreed. “My mother was a fanatic bridge player. She played solitaire all the time. I remember scrounging in her purse one time when I was eight, looking for gum, but all I found were boxes of cards.”
“See?” Elina said. “It’s in our blood. We’re card-playing women. How about you, Sharon? Are you in?”
“No, that’s okay.”
“Of course she’s playing,” Penny said. “Deal her in.”
Now I was uncomfortable. My family and Jeff’s family were from a breed that shunned card games on the general principle that a person should never appear
to be gambling. We stuck to Scrabble and an occasional benign game of Password. I hadn’t ever told Penny about the ban on card games in my clan because it never came up. So now I simply said, “No thanks. I’m going to take a nap.”
Penny and Elina used the small table that could be propped up under the window between our facing seats and began their game. I closed my eyes, and the steady rhythm of the train rolling over the tracks lulled me into a quiet place of reflection. So far from home, it was easier than it had ever been to take a more objective look at my life. I thought of all the parts of my normal life that usually seemed like such big issues or insurmountable conflicts. From this far away, things looked quite different.
I thought of my mother-in-law. Gloria didn’t like me. She never had. That was the truth, and yet I hadn’t allowed myself to let that complete thought go through my mind before. I had spent all these years avoiding that truth and telling myself that I needed to try harder to win her favor. I had told myself I was the problem. I was unacceptable for some unknown reason. If I could only figure out what I was doing wrong and change my behavior, then she would see I was a nice person and like me.
But what if Gloria never changed her opinion of me? What if she chose never to like me?
A clear thought came to me. I can love her through you.
I opened my eyes and looked around as if someone on the train had spoken those words. No one had spoken them to me. No human, at least.
I can love her through you.
That thought was going to take a while to wrap my emotions around. I understood the concept. Or at least, I thought I understood. On my own power, I might never find it in my heart to genuinely love my mother-in-law. But God loved her. He could demonstrate His love for her through me. I could choose to love Gloria even if she never chose to love me.
The picture that came to my mind was the way Marketta had freely gone to Penny, wrapped her arms around her, and hugged her when she was crying. Nothing was cautious about Marketta’s choice to love Penny. Perhaps God had prompted Marketta with the clear thought, “You can love her through me,” when Penny appeared on her doorstep. If so, Marketta ran to the opportunity and embraced Penny with a pure heart.
I wanted to live like that, to be free enough to love and accept others. I wanted to be strong in mind and body. I wanted to grow old with strength and dignity, and I wanted to choose to love with a pure heart.
I can love her through you took on a two-sided meaning. I realized that in my strength and with my emotions, I could never fully love Gloria.
But God could love Gloria through me. And I could love Gloria through God.
At that moment, in that seat, on that train headed for the north of England, a new corner of my heart opened up. I pictured it as a little shop. The Lovin’ Gloria shop. The shelves were stocked by the Giver of all good and perfect gifts with everything I needed to love my mother-in-law. The sign in the window read, “Now open for business.”
I had no idea how things were going to change in my relationship with Gloria. I only knew that something had changed in me. I was open for business. The Lovin’ Gloria business.
I pretended to sleep for the next hour. What I really was doing was letting my personal revelation sink in while Penny and Elina did their cousin bonding.
I heard them talking about their grandparents, whom Penny had never met but of whom Elina had plenty of memories. Elina was relaxing and opening up in ways she never would have been able to at home.
This detour to England was a good idea. Or maybe it was more than a good idea. Maybe it was really a God idea. I thought we had fulfilled Penny’s dream by connecting with Marketta in Finland. That was a big enough miracle. Now Penny is connecting in an amazing way with her cousin.
My awe over God’s mercy and His provision grew. I wished once again that I had my Bible with me. I wanted to read His words. I wanted more of Him inside my heart and my mind. I was hungry for God.
The train ride took us out of the London suburbs. I peeked out the window while appearing to be sleeping. We were rolling past an open area of pasture where woolly sheep bowed their heads and nibbled their daily grass.
Elina talked about her hysterectomy and how she had been struggling with terrible mood swings. “It’s the worst example of poor planning—I’m having premenopausal trauma at the same time my eleven-year-old daughter is having premenstrual trauma! Poor Arnie, he’s living with two insane women. Small wonder he was eager to kick me out of the house for a few days.”
Penny talked about how her preteen daughter, Nicole, was going through some of the same emotional loops.
Elina and Penny swapped stories about their children and cooked up a few dreams about them all meeting someday. Penny extended an open invitation to Elina and any of her family to stay with Dave and Penny in San Francisco.
The topic turned to husbands, and I continued to pretend I was asleep so Penny could give Elina an overview of her history with Dave. I noticed that Penny didn’t leave out any of the details about their life. Penny seemed as comfortable talking about what her life was like before she became a Christian as she was about after she came to Christ. I realized how shy I was when it came to talking openly about God. He was as real to me as my husband was. I loved God as much as I loved Jeff and our children. Maybe more. So why did I shrink back? Why didn’t I openly say it all the way Penny did?
Elina said, “I grew up in the church, as you probably would guess. Then I came to England, and we never connected with a church here. Arnie and I haven’t done a good job of giving our children a Christian background, I’m afraid. I think it’s not been a good choice for any of us. Especially for the children.”
“That’s easy enough to turn around,” Penny said. “Repent!”
Elina laughed. “You’ve been talking to my mother, haven’t you?”
“Yes, but not about you.”
“Sometimes the only thing that keeps me sane is knowing that my mother is praying for me every day.”
“So why don’t you get yourself back on track with Christ? You know, it’s your turn now to start praying for your children every day the way your mother prays for you.”
Elina didn’t respond.
I wanted to open my eye a pinch to see her expression, but I knew there was a chance they might see me “spying” on them. It never ceased to amaze me the way Penny could be so direct with people yet not offend them.
Elina changed the subject to food. She said this train had a bar car, and so the two of them decided to hunt up some sandwiches. Penny suggested they let me sleep.
As soon as they left, I “woke up” and pulled a brush from my purse. Every day on this trip I’d worn my hair up in a twist with a clip fastening it to the back of my head. This was the way I wore it at home. I thought of how Jeff liked it when I wore my blond hair down and slightly curled on the ends.
I smiled. I missed my husband so much. My Jeff.
Tonight, no matter where we ended up staying, I would call home and tell my wonderful Jeff that I loved him. I pulled out my travel diary and tried to remember as many details of the past few days as I could. I wanted to tell my husband everything when I got home.
Penny and Elina returned and offered me one of the dried-out ham and cream cheese sandwiches along with some hot tea in a paper cup. They were laughing about something Penny apparently had said in the bar car.
I loved watching Penny connect with her cousin.
Our train arrived in Warrington a little after two in the afternoon. Penny called Monique. No answer.
We scanned the train schedule for the next departure to Liverpool and tossed around ideas about staying in Warrington for the night. Penny seemed to have some notion that we needed to arrive in Liverpool in the early morning and take on the city when it was just waking up.
I didn’t follow her logic, but this wasn’t the first time.
“Warrington doesn’t have much to see,” Elina said. “But not far from here, in Daresbury, I know of a
resort that has a big egg hunt at Easter.”
“I’ve heard of a Lord Daresbury somewhere,” Penny said. “Is he a character in a Jane Austen novel?”
“I don’t think so,” Elina said. “I only know about Daresbury because we have neighbors who came to the hotel for the egg hunt a few years ago.”
“They came all this way for an egg hunt?” Penny said.
“They were visiting friends here in Warrington for Easter. They only popped over to the resort with their toddlers for the egg hunt. It’s designed for the children, of course. The hotel is near the church where Lewis Carroll’s father served as vicar.”
Penny and I gave Elina blank stares.
“You know, Lewis Carroll. The author of Through the Looking-Glass? Alice, the Mad Hatter, the White Rabbit, and all. That’s why the resort hosts the egg hunt.”
“Oh,” Penny and I said in unison.
Tracking down the resort was easy. Suddenly, we all liked the idea of seeing Liverpool in the morning because a dreary combination of fine raindrops mixed with blotches of sleet had set in.
At my request, Penny called the resort for a reservation before we showed up at their front desk Helsinki-style.
We also had to call for a cab. It took a half hour before a black Mercedes pulled up. Our cabbie started chattering the moment we climbed in. I think he talked the whole way to the hotel. The only problem was that neither Penny nor I could understand a word he said.
He pointed to the river we were crossing. I noticed a small sign that said “Mersey River.” The cabbie started singing to us.
“That’s a Beatles song,” Penny announced.
“No!” the cabbie squawked. He named the band.
“One of the many from the British Invasion,” Elina said in a low voice. “Gerry and the Pacemakers. Do you remember them?”
Penny shook her head. “I remember this song, though.” She sang about taking a ferry across the Mersey, and the cabbie joined in with renewed enthusiasm.
Elina looked impressed with Penny’s singing abilities.
Penny looked impressed with the bridge we were crossing and the murky waters below.
I just tried to look intelligent. The only Beatles song I knew was “I Want to Hold Your Hand.” And “Penny Lane,” of course. Beyond that, I was destined always to be the audience when it came to songs from the sixties.