“What am I going to do without you, Mom?” Lorraine said into the stillness of the night, her eyes welling with tears. It surprised her that she had any left.
She mulled over everything she’d done that had been a disappointment to her mother. She’d dropped out of medical school after her second year and trained as a nurse-practitioner, instead. Virginia had said little, but Lorraine knew her mother regretted that decision. She liked to think she’d made up for it when she met Gary, who sold medical supplies to Group Wellness, where Lorraine worked.
The fact that she’d become a lapsed Catholic had distressed her mother, as well, but Lorraine had never identified with the church the way Virginia had. She attended a nondenominational Christian church, but her mother would have preferred she remain Catholic.
“I’m so sorry, Mom,” she whispered, knowing she’d let her mother down in countless other ways.
When she’d finished her emotional journey through the house, Lorraine had taken a hot shower and changed into a nightgown, one she’d bought Virginia the previous Christmas. After giving the matter some thought, she’d chosen to sleep in her mother’s room, rather than her own. When she was frightened as a child, she’d always climbed into her mother’s bed. Lorraine was frightened now, afraid of the future, afraid to be without Virginia, without family.
As she lay there sleepless, she gathered her memories around her, finding consolation in the happiness they’d experienced. Day-to-day life had been full of shared pleasures, like cooking elaborate meals together, watching the classic movies they both loved, exchanging favorite books. Virginia also worked for several church-sponsored charities, and Lorraine sometimes spent an evening helping her pack up boxes of food for needy families, or stuffing envelopes. Her mother had been a wonderful woman, and Lorraine was proud of her. She’d been devout in her faith, hardworking, kindhearted. Smart, but generous, too.
After an hour or so, Lorraine gave up even trying to sleep. She sat up and reached for the framed photograph of her parents, which rested on the nightstand. The picture showed Virginia as young and beautiful, wearing a full, ankle-length dress with a wreath of wildflowers on her head. Her long straight hair fell nearly to her waist. She held a small bouquet of wildflowers in one hand; with the other hand she clasped her husband’s. Her eyes had been bright with happiness as she smiled directly into the camera.
The Thomas Dancy in the picture was tall and bearded, and wore his hair tied in a ponytail. He gazed at his bride with an identical look of love and promise. Anyone who saw the photograph could tell that the two of them had been deeply in love.
As recently as last weekend, when they’d been discussing Lorraine’s wedding plans, she’d teased her mother about the photo, calling her parents “flower children.” Virginia had been good-natured about it and merely said, “That was a long time ago.”
Sadly this photograph was the only one Lorraine had of her parents together. Everything else had been destroyed in a fire when she was in grade school. Lorraine remembered the fire, not realizing until years later all that she’d lost. Her parents’ photographs and letters, her father’s medals…
Lorraine knew that Virginia O’Malley had met Thomas Dancy her freshman year in college and they’d quickly fallen in love. The war in Vietnam had separated them when her father volunteered for the army in 1970. He’d survived the war and come home a hero. It was a year later, during a routine physical, that something unusual had shown up in his blood work. That something had turned out to be leukemia. Within six months, Thomas was dead and Virginia was a young widow with a child.
Virginia’s parents had helped financially for many years, but both of Lorraine’s maternal grandparents had died in the early eighties. Her father’s relatives were unknown to her. Her mother had one younger brother, but he’d gotten involved with drugs and alcohol, and communication between them had been infrequent at best. The last time Virginia had heard from her brother was five years ago, when he’d phoned her asking for money to make bail. Virginia had refused. Lorraine’s only cousin lived someplace in California, and she hadn’t seen or heard from her since the summer she was thirteen.
In other words, Lorraine was alone. Completely and utterly alone.
The phone startled her, and she whirled around to grab the receiver. “Hello,” she said breathlessly, uncertain who to expect.
Gary. “Just checking to make sure you’re all right.”
“I’m okay,” she told him.
“You want me to come over?”
“No.” Why can’t you just accept that I need this time by myself? His attitude upset her. This wasn’t like Gary.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be alone,” he said. He’d told her this earlier, more than once. “I know it’s all a terrible shock, but the last thing you should do now is isolate yourself.”
“Gary, please. I buried my mother this afternoon. I…I don’t have anyone else.”
Her words were met with an awkward pause. “You have me,” he said in a small hurt voice.
She regretted her thoughtlessness and at the same time resented his intrusion. “I know how that must have seemed and I’m sorry. But everything’s still so painful. I need a chance to adjust.”
“Have you decided to sell the house?” Gary asked.
Lorraine wondered why everyone was so concerned about what she did with the house. “I…don’t know yet.”
“It makes sense to put it on the market, don’t you think?”
She closed her eyes and sought answers. “I can’t make that kind of decision right now. Give me time.”
She must have sounded impatient because Gary was immediately contrite. “You’re right, darling, it’s too soon. We’ll worry about it later. Promise you’ll phone if you need me?”
“I promise,” she whispered.
After a few words of farewell, she ended the call. As she replaced the receiver, her gaze fell on the clock radio. She was shocked to discover it was only nine o’clock. It felt more like midnight. She lay back down and stared up at the ceiling, letting her thoughts creep into the future. Her mother wouldn’t be at her wedding, wouldn’t be there for the births of her grandchildren. Virginia Dancy had looked forward to becoming a grandmother; now her grandchildren would never know her.
Rather than deal with yet another aspect of her loss, Lorraine turned her mind to Gary’s unexpected call. He’d brought up a number of questions she still had to face.
The house had to be dealt with soon. If it sat empty for long, it’d start to deteriorate, not to mention attract vandals. Gary was right; she had to figure out what to do with it. Finances and legal issues posed another problem. She’d never even seen her mother’s will.
She’d handle one thing at a time, she decided. That was advice Virginia had given her as a child and it had always stood her in good stead. One step and then the next…
The call from Dennis Goodwin, her mother’s attorney, came a week after the funeral, when Lorraine had returned to work. She’d been waiting to hear from him. Dennis had told her at the funeral that there were a few legal matters that needed to be resolved and then he’d get in touch. He wouldn’t need more than fifteen or twenty minutes. He’d promised to phone the following week and set up an appointment.
True to his word, Dennis had called exactly a week after she’d buried her mother.
Lorraine arrived at the appointed time, prepared to hear the details of her mother’s will. The receptionist greeted her pleasantly, then reached for the intercom button. “Lorraine Dancy is here to see you,” she announced.
A moment later Dennis Goodwin appeared in the reception area. “Lorraine,” he said, his voice warm. “Good to see you.” He ushered her into his office.
Lorraine knew that Virginia had both liked and trusted Dennis. They’d worked in the same Louisville office building, and during that time, he’d acted as Virginia’s attorney of record for her will and any other legal matters.
“Have a seat,
” he invited. “How are you holding up?”
“About as well as can be expected,” Lorraine told him. She no longer felt the need to brush aside her own grief in an effort to comfort others. The week since the funeral had been difficult, and she couldn’t have borne it without Gary’s constant support.
“As you’re already aware,” the attorney said, leaning toward Lorraine, “I knew your mother for a number of years. She was one of the most talented stockbrokers I ever met. Back in the eighties, she recommended I purchase shares in a little-known Seattle company called Microsoft. Because of her, I’ll be able to retire in a couple of years. In fact, I could live off that investment alone.”
“Mom loved her job.”
“She made several smart investments of her own,” he added. “You won’t have to worry about finances for a long time to come.”
The news should have cheered her, Lorraine supposed, but she’d much prefer to have her mother back. No amount of financial security could replace what she’d lost.
She folded her hands in her lap and waited for him to continue.
“Your mother came to me four years ago and asked me to draw up her will,” Dennis said. He rolled away from his desk and picked up a file. “According to the terms, you’re her sole beneficiary. Under normal circumstances, our meeting wouldn’t be necessary.”
Lorraine frowned.
“But in the event of an untimely death, Virginia asked me to speak to you personally.”
Lorraine slid forward in her chair. “Mom wanted you to talk to me? About what?”
“Medical school.”
“Oh.” She gave a deep sigh. “Mom never understood about that.”
The attorney raised his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”
“It was a big disappointment to Mom when I decided to drop out.”
“Why did you?”
Lorraine looked out the window, although she scarcely noticed the view.
“A number of reasons,” she finally said, glancing down at her hands. “I love medicine and Mom knew that, but while I have the heart of a physician, I don’t have the competitive edge. I hated what medical school was like—the survival of the fittest. I couldn’t do it. Maybe I’m lazy, I don’t know, but I have everything I want now.”
“How’s that?”
Her smile was brief. “I do almost as much as a doctor, but without the bucks or the glory.”
“I believe your mother did understand that,” Dennis said, although Lorraine suspected it wasn’t completely true. “But she wanted you to know that the funds are available if you should change your mind.”
Lorraine’s eyes stung as she held back the tears. “Did she tell you I’m engaged?”
“She hadn’t mentioned it. Congratulations.”
“Thank you. Gary and I only recently told…” Lorraine let the rest fade. The attorney waited patiently, but she didn’t trust her voice.
“If you reconsider and decide to try medical school again, I’ll do whatever I can to help you.”
His offer surprised her. “Thank you, but I’m not going to. Not when Gary and I are about to start our lives together.”
“Well, I promised I’d bring it up if the occasion arose. It saddens me that it has.”
Within a few minutes, Dennis had finished explaining the terms of the will and handed her the necessary paperwork. When she’d read everything, he passed her another sheet of paper.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“An inventory of the safe-deposit box. I went down to the bank yesterday afternoon and retrieved everything. I have it all for you here.” He stood and picked up the manila envelope on his credenza. “I need you to confirm that every document listed on the sheet is accounted for.”
Because it was expected of her, Lorraine dumped the contents of the envelope onto the desk and checked off the items on the list. She’d previously seen or known about everything here. Or so she assumed until she found the opened letter addressed to her mother. How odd, she mused, studying its colorful foreign stamps.
“Do you know anything about this letter?” she asked the attorney.
“Nothing. Actually, it seemed odd to me that Virginia would put something so obviously personal in with documents that were all business-related.”
“It’s from Mexico,” Lorraine said unnecessarily.
“Yes, I noticed that.”
“Postmarked seven years ago.” She withdrew the single page inside. After scanning it, she turned it over and read the signature. Gasping, she lifted her head to stare at Dennis Goodwin.
“You’re…you’re sure you didn’t know about this?” She was unable to conceal her shock.
“Lorraine, I don’t know anything about that letter. I was your mother’s lawyer, not her confidant. What she chose to place in the safe-deposit box had nothing to do with my role as her attorney.”
Lorraine sagged against the back of the chair and raised her hand to her throat. “Could…could I have a glass of water, please?” Her mouth felt dry and her voice had gone hoarse. This couldn’t be true. Couldn’t be real. This was crazy.
“I’ll be right back.” Dennis stepped out of his office and quickly returned with a large paper cup.
Lorraine drank the contents in several noisy gulps and briefly closed her eyes, trying to take in what she’d learned.
“I’m sorry if something’s upset you,” Dennis said.
“You really haven’t read the letter?” she asked shakily.
“No, of course not. It would’ve been highly unethical to do so.”
Lorraine waited until she’d regained her composure enough to sound unemotional. “It appears, Dennis,” she said calmly, “that my father isn’t dead, after all.”
Two
The nightmare woke Thomas Dancy out of a deep sleep. He opened his eyes and filled his lungs with air. A breeze wafted in through the bedroom window and a full April moon cast fingers of cool light into the room. It’s just a dream, he reminded himself. One that came to him periodically. It was always the same, and despite the passage of almost thirty years, it hadn’t lessened in intensity. He relived every gut-wrenching detail—and always woke up at the same point, trembling with fear and terror. Again, as he did every time, Thomas felt unabashed relief that it had only been a dream. Again, he reminded himself that the worst was over. He’d walked through that hell once, and lived.
Thomas threw back the sheet and sat on the edge of the thin mattress as the darkness and the effects of the nightmare closed in around him. Even now that he was wide-awake, the fear would not release him, had seeped into his very bones.
He’d lost so much, back in the early seventies. By far his greatest and most profound loss had been his wife and daughter, but the dream had nothing to do with them.
In an effort to combat the lingering traces of depression—the dream’s legacy—he formed a mental picture of Ginny and tiny Raine the day he’d left for Vietnam. Ginny had been so young, so beautiful. Her face had been streaked with tears as she held their daughter in her arms. Despite everything that had gone wrong in the years since, that particular image never failed to lighten his heart.
She’d come to the airport to see him off to war. A war he didn’t understand and had no desire to fight. It had nearly killed him to leave his family that day. But in the end he’d been the one to do the killing.
Guilt surged up in him and he shook his head, refusing to allow his thoughts to stumble down that path. He rubbed his face with both hands, as if he could erase the last residue of the dream and all the memories it brought back.
He couldn’t.
The trembling started again, and he stood and walked over to the window and stared into the night. He gazed at the reflection of the moon over the smooth water of the bay, off in the distance. He needed a reminder that the war and its aftermath were far behind him.
As memories of the war faded, they were replaced by thoughts of Ginny. Despite the years, despite her abandonment, he still loved he
r. He’d made a new life for himself here in El Mirador, and he’d come to think of Mexico as his home. He was a simple man, living a simple life. He’d never be rich, but then, money wasn’t important to him. Ginny had understood that.
Ginny…
Earlier that night, before his dreams had erupted into the sights and sounds of a brutal war, his wife had come to him in his sleep. He’d seen her as she was at twenty, and their love had seemed as real as the windowsill beneath his fingers.
His heart sang at the sound of her name in his mind. He remembered the first time he saw her on the university campus and how he’d dismissed her as virginal and uptight. But the cliché about opposites attracting was certainly true in their case. He’d embraced the beliefs of the late sixties—like student power and “doing your own thing”—ideologies she’d regarded with contempt.
As it happened, they’d attended the same English class and sat across from each other. Thomas took it upon himself to break through that barrier of reserve she held between herself and the world. Ginny was the challenge he couldn’t resist. He didn’t mean it to happen, but before he knew it, he’d fallen in love.
So had she.
A slow smile relaxed the taut muscles of his face as he recalled the night they’d first slept together. She’d been innocent, and while he was far from a virgin, that afternoon with Ginny was the first time he’d truly made love. The honesty of their lovemaking had forever changed him. Instinctively he’d known that, despite his other lovers, she was the only woman he’d really loved.
He wanted to marry her. His feelings had nothing to do with religion and everything to do with his heart. They met every day after class and took crazy chances to be together in either his dorm or hers. Once they’d made love, it was impossible to stop, and their physical need for each other grew until it dominated all common sense.