“Excuse me?”
It was a man’s voice. Heat flooded Nora’s face. Had she dialed a wrong number? She slammed the phone down. Trying to calm herself, she took a deep breath and pressed the numbers carefully. It was answered on the first ring by the same male voice, belligerent this time. “Who is this?”
“Is this Leota Reinhardt’s number?”
“Yes, it is. Who’s calling?”
“Who are you?”
“Corban Solsek, if it’s any of your business. Now I’ll ask you the same question. Again.”
What impertinence! “Nora Gaines. And it is my business. I’m Leota Reinhardt’s daughter.”
“Pleased to meet you, I guess. Hold on. I’ll see if Leota wants to talk to you.” Nora went hot all over while he muffled the receiver. She couldn’t hear anything and wondered at the pause before her mother came on the line. “Eleanor? What’s wrong?”
“Don’t Eleanor me, Mother. What lies have you been telling Anne-Lynn?”
Silence reigned for several seconds. “I haven’t been telling her any lies. What are you talking about?”
“She hates me! That’s what I’m talking about.”
“Of course, she doesn’t.”
“Oh, yes, she does. And it’s all your fault. I know it. She spends all her time with you and never comes home where she’s wanted.”
“She’s wanted here, Eleanor. Just as you are.”
“There’s a lie right there. You never wanted me, and you’re just using my daughter to hurt me!”
“Is this the same old territory, Eleanor? Because if it is, I’ll tell you once and for all, it’s hogwash!”
Nora felt herself blushing hotly at the rebuke. “What did you say to me?” Only once in all her years had she ever heard that cold, steely tone in her mother’s voice. And that had been aimed at Grandma Reinhardt.
“You heard me, Eleanor. I said hogwash! I should’ve said it to you a long time ago instead of letting you go on like a spoiled brat. If you want to have things straightened out and put right between us, you should come for tea sometime. You’ve been invited often enough!”
Nora jerked as the telephone was slammed down in her ear. She stared at it. The line was dead. She couldn’t believe it! Her mother had hung up on her. She’d never done that before.
Fear gripped her.
How does it feel to be alone?
I am here, beloved. Turn to Me.
Voices warred in her head. Sometimes there was a chorus of them, ranting, raving, fanning her pain and anger. And then the quiet one would prod at her conscience, making her twist in discomfort, impelling her to cry out for help.
Come to Me, beloved . . .
What help have you ever gotten? She let the louder voice drown out the other. You’ve never been able to depend on anyone but yourself.
“I’m not to blame.”
“Eleanor,” her mother had once said, “someday you’re going to have to stop laying the blame for everything at someone else’s door.”
Quick tears came at the memory. Her mother had said it to her the day she had come to tell her Dean Gardner had filed for divorce.
Shutting her eyes tightly, Nora remembered Dean’s parting words: “The only good thing that ever came out of our marriage was Annie!” She had gotten back at him for that by winning custody when the court supported her charges of abuse. She’d dedicated herself to making sure Anne-Lynn didn’t grow up to be a dreamer like her father. She had sacrificed.
You lied.
She had given up her own dreams . . .
You took vengeance.
Like your mother is taking vengeance?
Nora remembered her mother standing in her bedroom doorway. She remembered being angry about something. She had gotten up from the sewing machine, come over, and slammed the door in her mother’s face. She could still remember Leota’s expression. Stunned, hurt, confused.
Why was she remembering that now when her own pain was so great?
So that you might know . . .
Know what? Know that nothing had been right between her and her mother in years? She didn’t want to listen to the voice whispering that she was the one in the wrong, not just about her mother but about everything. Yet it was that voice she was beginning to hear more loudly than her own, like a steady rain upon her head, impelling her to find shelter from the harder storm to come.
“If I had a daughter like that, I’d disown her.” Corban felt his anger deepen at the sheen of tears in the old woman’s eyes. He was so mad, he was shaking. If Nora Gaines had been standing in the middle of the room, he would have told her in no uncertain terms what he thought of her. He had a five-letter word that fit her to a tee.
“Don’t judge.” Leota gave him a hard look.
How could Leota defend her? “What gives with her, anyway?”
“She thinks I was a lousy mother.” Leota sounded so weary. “And in some ways, I suppose she’s right.”
Corban sat on the sofa and leaned back. He thought about Ruth, so quick in wanting to end her pregnancy. What sort of mother would she be when she wanted no part of the baby she was carrying? His baby. Leota Reinhardt hadn’t been that kind of mother, he’d bet. “What did you do that was so wrong?”
“I worked.” Closing her eyes, she put her head back. “And when I was home . . .” She fell silent.
Corban wished he knew what he could say to make her feel better, but no words came.
“Would you mind going to the grocery store without me?” she said quietly, her voice quaking slightly. “I don’t feel up to it today.”
“No problem.” She looked ready to cry. He supposed she just wanted time to herself without him sitting in her living room and being a witness to her shame and grief.
“The list is on the kitchen counter.” She reached down for her purse, tucked in a pocket on the recliner. Unsnapping the old metal clasp, she took out her wallet. When he came back, she handed him two twenty-dollar bills. “Will that be enough?”
“Should be.” He tucked the bills into the front pocket of his jeans.
She opened the coin purse and took out her front-door key. “I had two copies made. One for Annie and one for you.”
He took it, knowing full well the trust she had just placed in his hands. He never expected to be so touched by a gesture. He gave a nod and held the key in his fist.
“Put it on your key chain before you lose it,” she said and snapped the purse shut. She kept it in her lap, both hands on the top.
Taking his keys out, he did as she said. “Are you going to be all right, Leota?”
“I’ll be fine.” She rubbed her right arm as though it were aching. “I’m just a little tired is all.”
“I won’t be long.”
“Don’t hurry. And while you’re out and about, you might think kind thoughts regarding my daughter.”
“That’s not going to be easy.”
“Easier if you remember she’s Annie’s mother, and Annie has grown up to be someone very special.”
Corban smiled wryly. “Touché.”
It was the first time since coming to Leota’s house as a volunteer that he’d done her errands on his own. He gathered all the items on the list, pausing to feel and smell the tomato and thump the honeydew melon the same way Leota did. On his way to the checkout, he had an impulse to buy her a little something. And he knew exactly what it would be. Backtracking to the produce area, he added one more item to the basket and paid for it out of his own money.
When he let himself into the house, Leota wasn’t in the living room.
“Leota? Where are you? Are you all right?”
The bathroom door opened and she appeared, her hair damp around her forehead and temples. “I’m fine. I was just washing my face.” Her eyes were puffy and red.
“I’ll put these things away for you.” He headed for the kitchen with two laden, paper sacks and one small, plastic-bagged item dangling from his arm.
When he finished putt
ing Leota’s groceries away in the refrigerator and cabinets, he folded the paper bags and tucked them neatly into the box Leota had set on a back-porch shelf. He shoved the wadded plastic bag into a five-gallon, blue-and-white-speckled soup pot next to it. Leota liked to “diaper” the paper bags she used for garbage. “Keeps them from leaking.” Ruth had made fun of him when he started doing the same thing at the apartment.
Digging in his pocket, Corban pulled out the receipt and change due Leota, and then picked up the item he had purchased. “Your change, ma’am,” he said with ceremony, “and a little something from me to you.” He leaned down and presented her with the small flowering plant in a pretty, porcelain teacup on a saucer. Her soft word of surprised pleasure put a smile on his face.
She put the change on her side table without counting it and took the gift from him. The cup rattled and she nestled it tenderly in her lap. “Oh, my . . . African violets. Thank you, Corban. They’re lovely.”
“My pleasure, Leota.” Never had his money been better spent. He liked the warm, fuzzy feel.
“Bernard gave me violets once. It was such a long time ago.”
When she looked up at him again, he saw a little-girl-lost look in her eyes. It surprised him, as did the empathy that seized him. He felt close to tears and embarrassed by the inexplicable, heightened emotions. He didn’t welcome these feelings. Maybe they had more to do with Ruth and the baby. Whatever it was, he felt Leota’s pain. He couldn’t get away from it.
He couldn’t get around it or past it. For the first time in his life, Corban felt someone else’s anguish as though it were his own. He had heard of people dying when they lost hope, and Leota looked like she was losing hope where her children were concerned. If not for Annie, her life might as well be over. Her hand was trembling as she touched the petals of the pretty, lavender flowers—and he hurt for her.
Is this what it feels like to care about someone? It was the pits. It made him uncomfortable. It made him feel vulnerable and ineffective. Worse, he didn’t know how to stop it. He didn’t even know when it began to happen. Sometime in the past month, he had stopped thinking of Leota Reinhardt as a subject for his project and had begun to see her as a friend. Feisty, straight-shooting, funny, irritating, enigmatic, challenging, endearing . . .
“Don’t you have a class this afternoon?” she said.
His mouth curved ruefully. “At two.”
She looked pointedly at the mantel clock. “Well, you’d better get moving now or you’ll be late.”
So much for warm, fuzzy feelings. If he stayed, she’d lecture. “Is Annie coming over Friday?” He hoped so. Leota always came to life when Annie was around . . . sweet, uncomplicated little Annie. She definitely had a way about her.
Unlike Ruth. She was deep, treacherous water.
“Saturday,” Leota said. “She has to work on Friday.”
“Maybe I’ll drop by.”
“Why don’t you bring your girlfriend this time? I’d like to meet her.” She tilted her chin slightly. “I’m sure Annie would, too.”
“I’ll ask her.”
“What’s her name, by the way?”
“Ruth.” As if he needed the reminder.
Sam was waiting on the stoop of the apartment building when Annie returned from her walk. She went hot from the top of her head to the soles of her feet. They had had a date at six. He stood as she came closer. “Oh, Sam, I’m sorry!” To add to her embarrassment, she burst into tears.
“Hey, I’m not mad. I was just worried. Are you okay?”
No, she wasn’t okay. She was miserable. “Why didn’t Susan let you in?”
“She did and then left for work. I came out to get something out of my car, and the door swung shut behind me.” He picked up a bouquet of flowers wrapped in pink cellophane. They were wilted.
How long had he been waiting for her? “What time is it?” She dashed tears from her cheeks and dug in her jacket pocket for her keys.
“Eight thirty.”
“Oh, Sam . . .” She unlocked the door and pushed it open. “Why did you wait so long?”
“I’ll give you three guesses, and the first two don’t count.”
She glanced back over her shoulder and wanted to cry harder at the look in his eyes. He was making no secret of the depth of his feelings. She liked him so much, but she couldn’t seem to get through to him that the Lord had other plans for her.
“I drove all the way up here from San Jose, Annie. I’ve been working extra hours, saving my money for weeks, just so I could take you out to a fancy dinner at the Top of the Mark. Seven courses at least. I even borrowed this great suit from a friend. I swear the guy models for GQ. I bought flowers, just the right mix of red for passion and white for purity so you won’t think I’m out to ruin you.” He wagged the bedraggled flowers at her. “And then I get here, ringing the doorbell with my heart throbbing in my throat, and what do I find? My sister.” He put a hand to his heart. “You forgot all about me. I’m mortally wounded, Annie. I should sue for damages.”
“I’m sorry.” She sounded like a broken record. She couldn’t stop thinking about her mother. Lord, I don’t want to be cut off from her, but it’s so hard to walk Your path and please her at the same time.
He tipped her chin, his eyes tender. “When are you going to stop feeling guilty about everything, Annie? Like anything you do is going to change people from the inside out.” He took out his handkerchief. “Here.”
“Thanks.”
“Anytime. You’ll notice that handkerchief is monogrammed. Christmas gift from my mother. Keep it. Every time you blow your nose, you’ll think of me.”
Annie laughed. She couldn’t help it.
“That’s better. Come on. Let’s go upstairs. It’s the least you can do after standing me up.”
She opened the apartment door and let him in. “I’m going to wash my face, Sam. Make yourself comfortable.”
Annie went into the bathroom and turned on the tap. Leaning down, she cupped her hands and scrubbed her face several times with cold water. Blindly reaching for the towel, she pressed it over her eyes. She glanced in the mirror and saw her hair was a windblown mess from her long beach walk. Hanging the towel back in its place, she raked her fingers several times through the mass of strawberry-blonde curls. Grimacing, she gave up and went back into the living room.
Sam’s jacket was folded over a barstool. He was standing at the window, his hands shoved into his pockets.
“Can I fix you some dinner, Sam?”
“Dinner should be here in forty-five minutes. Salad, French bread, eggplant Parmesan. How does that sound?”
“I love eggplant Parmesan.”
“I know. Susan told me.” He turned around and faced her. “So. Are you going to tell me what happened?”
She raked her fingers through her hair again. “Nothing. Everything.” She let out her breath and sank into the overstuffed chair. She drew her knees up against her chest. “This was the best day of my life. And one of the worst.”
“Your mother called.”
She looked up.
His eyes were hot. She could see the tension in his shoulders, and she knew his anger wasn’t aimed at her.
“I don’t know what to do about her,” she said softly.
“I could tell you.”
“Oh, I know.” She rested her forehead on her knees. “Everyone has an idea what I ought to do about her. Tell her off. Cut her out of my life.” She raised her head and looked at him. “She’s my mother, Sam. I love her. I’d like to know what made her the way she is.”
“So you can fix her?” His tone was flat. “Forget it, Annie. It’s a God-size job.” He came closer. “Take it from someone who was just as egotistical and self-centered and destructive as your mother is. The harder you try to make things right with her, the worse they’re going to get.” He gave a sardonic laugh. “Honey, my parents had to give up and throw me out of the house before I came to my senses. If they hadn’t had the guts to d
o it, I don’t even want to think where I’d be right now. Dead, probably.”
She knew what he was talking about. She had lived through that time with Susan’s family. She had seen his mother cry and his father pace in frustration. Susan had given her a daily, blow-by-blow report. “Your family prayed for you, Sam. All the time. And I prayed for you, too.”
His eyes grew moist. “Maybe that’s all you can do for your mother.” He came over and sat on the couch. Leaning forward, he clasped his hands between his knees. “You’ve got to have boundaries, Annie, or people will walk all over you. Even Jesus had boundaries. He didn’t let anyone stop Him from doing what He came to do. He had to get away from the hordes of people who were always demanding things of Him. They thought they could tell Him what they needed and what they wanted. Everyone had his own agenda. Left to ourselves, we’re hell bound. Right from the first breath, our agenda is in opposition to God. The only one you can work on is you.”
The tears came again. “Sam, I know that. That’s why I left home. I knew if I stayed one more day, I’d end up giving in and giving up. If I’d stayed, I’d be out east at Wellesley right now, majoring in business or political science or something that would give me something in common with some future CEO or senator. I’d settle for Mom’s dreams for me instead of finding out what God’s plan is.” She unfolded herself from the chair and rose. She was restless. “I suppose to most people, I made the biggest mistake of my life.”
“You did what you had to do. You left. If you went back now, you’d find nothing changed. You can’t make people change, Annie.”
“I know that in my head, but every time my mother and I talk, my heart breaks for her. I know I’m where I’m supposed to be. It’s not just a matter of being happy. I feel sure of being on the path God made for me. I don’t know where exactly it’ll lead, but sometimes I have this feeling of wanting to run down it, knowing Jesus is at the end of it. I wanted to tell Mom that today, but she wouldn’t have understood. I was so excited about what happened, but she couldn’t understand.”
He leaned back. “Wouldn’t, you mean.”