“You know exactly what I mean. You just don’t want to face it.” He brushed his knuckles gently along the line of her cheek. His tenderness had always touched some deep core within her. She loved him passionately, even when they didn’t come together physically for a week or more at a time. She admired and respected him. And she often found herself wondering how she had been so lucky to find a man like him after two disastrous marriages. Fred was strong, but his strength didn’t come from demanding his own way or believing he was always right. It came from something deep within him.
Oh, God, I know I’m not perfect. I know it! It’s been driven home to me every day of my life. And it’s been a hundred times worse over the past eight months since Annie couldn’t bear to live with me anymore. Did I need that pounding on Christmas Day? I’ve always wanted to be a better mother than mine was. I’ve always wanted to do what’s right, to rear my children to be better than anyone else. And all I’ve done is alienate everyone I love most. Two husbands. Michael. Annie. I’m amazed Fred hasn’t left me.
She closed her eyes. If Fred hadn’t been with her on Christmas Day to pick up the pieces, she knew she’d have come home and slashed her wrists or swallowed a bottle of pills. She’d been knocked off her high horse and come home in tears. Again. She always seemed to come home from her mother’s house in tears. That house should be called the House of Wailing. Had anyone ever been happy there?
Annie’s happy there.
“I don’t know what to do anymore.” She looked up at Fred. “I feel as though no one in the world loves me except you.” And how long would that last? How long would it take before she alienated him as well?
“Annie loves you.” He smiled down at her, that sweet, gentle smile. “She loved you enough to take your abuse for eighteen years.”
For the first time, Nora didn’t protest at the harsh assessment. She could take the truth from Fred because words weren’t a weapon for him. His touch, his voice, his faithfulness made her safe with him, open. Had anyone else said she hadn’t been a good mother, she would have done battle.
Yet it wasn’t easy to hear. Stricken, she closed her eyes tightly and saw in her mind’s eye the look on her daughter’s face before she fled into the kitchen. Even as angry as she was, Nora had realized she had crushed her daughter’s heart. Just as she had on Thanksgiving Day when she threw away the turkey Annie had made. She hadn’t wanted to face it. It had been Susan who slapped her with the truth, and in a small way made her willing to listen to Fred now and feel the truth of his assessment.
It is true. Susan is right. No matter what Annie did, I always wanted her to do more. Fred is right. It was abuse. Oh, God, it’s because of my mother that I’m like this.
And then she remembered her mother’s tears.
No, it’s not my mother’s fault. It’s my fault. Oh, God, it is. Why do I behave like this?
Because you don’t measure up. You never have, the dark voice said. And you still don’t.
“What do I have to do?” Fear and anguish were choking her. “I’m so afraid and I don’t know what to do.”
Fred took her hands and drew her up out of her chair. He held her close for a long moment. “Just be there for both of them.” She was trembling, her head aching. “I love you,” Fred said. “Do you know that?”
But for how long?
Fred drew back and cupped her face. “Look at me, Nora.” When she did, scarcely able to see him through her tears, he said, “I know you a lot better than I did when we courted. And I love you better now than I did on the day I married you.”
“I don’t know how.”
His smile was tender. “God knows.” He kissed her as though sealing a promise. “I’ll get your coat.”
Corban was glad he’d stayed, especially when Annie told him she’d called her mother and uncle and both were coming. She was going to need all the support she could get, especially after the doctor just told her he didn’t think Leota should be going home again. Better if she was transferred into a convalescent hospital for twenty-four-hour care during her last months of life. It seemed everything was wrong with the old lady’s body. Corban thought about Leota joking with him a few months back.
“I’m like an old car, chassis’s dented and rusty. I’m leaking fluids and can’t even get out of my chair without a jump start.”
Tears burned his eyes. He held them back, swallowed them down, put on a stoic face for Annie’s sake.
When had Leota stopped being that cantankerous old hag to him and become Leota, an old lady he loved? Hands clasped between his knees, he bowed his head and closed his eyes.
Oh, Jesus, oh, God, if You’re really up there and You care, please don’t let Leota die. Get her well enough so Annie and I can get her out of here and take her home. That’s where she wants to be when her time comes. Let me do that much for her.
“Have you heard anything more?”
At Nora Gaines’s voice, he raised his head sharply.
Annie fumbled for his hand. “No. Nothing. They said it would be a while.”
Corban held her hand firmly and met Nora’s gaze in challenge. She looked back at him, but he didn’t see a hint of the hostility that had been there on Christmas Day. She just looked sad. And old. It was as though she had aged in the few days since he’d seen her last. Strange. Suddenly, though he could scarcely believe it, he could see some of Leota in her. Maybe it was the eyes. He’d never noticed before.
“We came right away,” Fred said. He extended his hand. “Thanks for helping, Corban.”
Corban stood and shook hands with him. He couldn’t see any way out of it without being rude and hurting Annie in the process. However, if the guy was dismissing him, he’d better think again. He didn’t let go of Annie’s hand and sat beside her again. “I’ll stick around until we know more.”
Fred nodded. “Of course.”
Nora sat in a chair across from Annie. Annie glanced at her and then away.
I could almost pity the witch, Corban thought. Then again, why should I? She brought it on herself. If Annie never speaks to her mother again, who could blame her? One word from Annie would be more than Nora Gaines deserved. Susan Carter had filled in details of how Annie had lived most of her life: a puppet on strings, yanked hither and yon by her controlling mother.
Suddenly another thought lashed razor-sharp across his mind: Weren’t you the guy who had wanted to put all the poverty-level old folks in a government facility where no one would have to deal with them? Weren’t you the guy who wanted to get the old folks off the street and out of sight? After all, this is a youth-oriented society. Right? Old folks could be a real nuisance.
He swallowed hard, fighting the rush of shame that washed over him.
Admit it, Corban. You could barely stand the sight of Leota Reinhardt the first time you met her. You were repulsed by her wrinkles, her soiled polyester dress, her unkempt house in a ghetto neighborhood. You came with all the answers and wanted her to confirm them. Just so you could get an A in a college course.
It was true. All of it.
What is it about Nora Gaines you really dislike? Why not take a good, hard look at that?
He did. And he knew in an instant what it was that had roused his animosity. The reason wasn’t nearly as altruistic as feeling compassion for Annie. It was far more personal. Nora Gaines had hit his sore spot. She’d recognized him for who he really was.
“Why did you come here?” The sarcasm of her question had cut his conscience wide open. Why had he come? To use Leota Reinhardt, to get what information he needed and then walk away and forget her.
And there was something else.
Nora Gaines reminded him of Ruth Coldwell. Ruth had said things to him on her way out that had made him see himself more clearly. And he hadn’t liked what he had seen. She was wrong in what she’d done, but was he any more right in the way he’d chosen to live with her? Had he ever thought about the consequences? And with Leota, his good deeds came from purely selfi
sh motives. Her desperate need had given him entrance into her life. No wonder she hadn’t liked him at first.
Corban grimaced. I’m more like Nora Gaines than I am like Annie. I’m self-centered and self-absorbed.
“I shouldn’t’ve brought her here,” Annie said in a husky voice.
Nora’s response was quick and gentle. “You did the right thing.”
“No, I didn’t!” Annie jerked her hand from Corban’s and stood. She paced the waiting room. “I should’ve listened to Grandma. She wanted to stay home. I should never have brought her here.”
“You did the right thing,” Nora said again.
Fred nodded. “She needed a doctor, Annie.”
“I think she knows she’s dying and that’s why she wouldn’t tell me she was in pain.”
“She’s in pain?” Nora asked softly.
Annie turned, her face ravaged by conflicting emotions. “She’s been in pain for years, Mother. Pain you wouldn’t even understand.” She turned away again.
Tensing, ready for attack, Corban waited for Nora Gaines to say something harsh and cruel. But she said nothing. She looked pale and sick. Or maybe it was the sight of her brother, George, striding into the waiting room that kept her from lacerating her daughter again. Jeanne came in behind her husband, looking weary and cautious.
“We heard the message on the answering machine.” George looked from Fred to Nora to Annie. Corban smiled grimly. George’s gaze barely acknowledged his existence. “We’d have been here sooner, but we had to find a babysitter. What’d the doctor say?”
“She’s undergoing tests right now.” Annie turned, squaring her shoulders as she faced him. “The doctor said it would take a few hours.” She glanced at her watch. “We should hear any time now.”
Jeanne went to Annie. “I’m so sorry, honey. How can we help?”
“There’s nothing we can do but wait and pray, Aunt Jeanne,” Annie said tearfully, receiving the hug and returning it.
“There’s plenty we can do,” George said, his jaw set. “We can see that Mother gets proper care this time.”
Corban stood. “Now, just a minute—”
“You’re not a member of this family.” George ground out the words. “So butt out of our business.”
“He’s my friend!” Annie stepped around Jeanne.
“And it’s my mother we’re talking about.”
“George,” Jeanne said, her voice pleading. “This isn’t the time—”
“This is as good a time as any.” His face was flushed, his eyes dark. “I thought you were going to deal with your daughter, Nora. Tell her what we discussed.”
Nora leaned forward in her chair and covered her face.
“We’re all upset, George,” Fred said calmly.
“Upset! You’re right I’m upset. I get back from a Christmas with in-laws and find a message on my answering machine that my mother is in the hospital again. I just finished talking with the doctor, and he said Mother has probably been in pain for weeks! If she’d been where we’d wanted her to be in the first place, she would’ve had professional help before this!”
Annie’s face convulsed.
Corban stepped forward. “Hey, man! Where do you get off talking to Annie that way?” He wanted to knock George on his self-righteous backside. “She’s been taking care of Leota night and day. Where have you been?”
“I’ve got a business to run. I have a family to take care of. I’m not some snot-nosed rich kid going through college on a trust fund!”
Corban felt the heat rush into his face.
“Yeah!” George sounded positively smug. “I know all about you. Sociology major. Big paper to write. Did you think I wouldn’t want to find out the whole story on some guy who just shows up one day to help a little old lady out of the kindness of his heart? I hired someone to find out about you.”
Wrath melted into shame. “You could’ve asked me. What did you think? I was after Leota’s massive estate? She lives from one Social Security check to another while her daughter lives in Blackhawk and her son—”
“Get out of here!” George bellowed. “Or I’ll throw you out!”
The staff at the nurses’ station looked at each other. “Do you think we should do something?” a candy striper said to one of the nurses. The medical technician stood in the supply room listening to the heated conversation. He shook his head.
“You stay out of it. I’ve already paged the doctor and a chaplain.”
“Someone in there is going to need a doctor. They sound like they’re going to start a fistfight.”
“It won’t be the first time,” another nurse said. “Everyone trying to do what they think is right, no one wanting to take responsibility, and the poor old lady caught in the middle.”
“I don’t think that’s what’s going on,” another staff member said. “The granddaughter wants to take care of her.”
“Get real. Did you see the girl? She can’t be more than eighteen. Still wet behind the ears and she’s supposed to have that kind of responsibility?”
“Maybe if she had some help,” a nurse said, writing notes on a chart.
“From what I hear, the patient and her daughter have been estranged for years, and the son isn’t close to her either,” said another, going into the medicine cabinet.
“It sounds like they care.”
“Oh, they care all right. Put her away and let the state pay the bills. That’ll leave something for them when—”
“What an awful thing to say.”
“How do you know so much?” The other nurse slipped the chart back into its file.
“All you have to do is listen!”
“It’s not our business what they think. Our job is to take care of the patient.”
A chaplain walked by, heading for the waiting room.
“That poor little old lady.”
“The granddaughter wants to take care of her,” the candy striper said again.
“Doesn’t sound like she’ll get help from anyone in that room.”
The head nurse picked up another chart. “Well, the patient won’t be here long.”
“Is she going to die?”
“We all die sometime, but I didn’t mean that. She could last a long time. You never know in these cases. They can surprise you. And miracles still happen. What I meant was we’re short on beds, and she’s going to need long-term care. Dr. Patterson will have her moved into a convalescent hospital unless the family comes to some kind of agreement.”
“Doesn’t sound like they can agree on anything.”
“How sad.” The young candy striper shrugged.
“It’s better than the alternative.” The head nurse slipped the chart back into its place and went down the hall to check on a patient.
One of the nurses was checking over the med chart and the meds in their small paper cups. She glanced at the medical technician who was checking orders. “What do you think, Hiram?”
“I feel sorry for Mrs. Reinhardt.”
Hiram knew death could sometimes be an ally. He could hear the arguing going on in the waiting room. He’d listened to the nurses without adding his opinion. He’d drawn blood from Leota Reinhardt not more than an hour ago. It wouldn’t be hard to get his hands on the doctor’s report and see the prognosis.
He’d helped terminally ill patients before. Maybe he could help Leota Reinhardt, too.
Leota knew something was wrong the moment Annie came into her room. Though her granddaughter smiled cheerfully, Leota could see the puffiness around her eyes, the redness of them. She was pretending everything was going to be fine.
Annie took her hand. “I’ll get you out of here as soon as I can, Grandma.” Her mouth worked and she swallowed convulsively. “I’ll do whatever I have to . . .”
“They giving you trouble?”
“We’re just working out some details.”
Leota saw the pain in Annie’s eyes, the strain. She saw other things as well, things she hadn’t not
iced over the past weeks of being in her granddaughter’s care. A pity she had to have a stroke to learn what it was like to have a loving daughter. Annie was everything Leota had hoped Eleanor would be. Kind, gentle, unselfish, honest, joyful. Eleanor had been such a sweet little girl, so eager to please. Circumstances had damaged her. Poor Eleanor had learned to lock away hurt by hiding inside herself. Maybe someone would be able to break through the walls and shake her out of herself. Maybe then Eleanor would be the woman God intended her to be.
Whatever happens, God, don’t let them ruin Annie. Don’t let bitterness take root and choke out her faith. Lord, would You do that for me? Put a high hedge around my granddaughter. Make a wall. Put angels in the watchtowers. I’ve failed You. I wasn’t able to rear a child after Your own heart. How ironic that it was Eleanor who did it. No, that’s not right either. I mustn’t think that way. It was You. It was You all the time, Lord. It was You who made this miracle.
“Grandma?” Annie was searching her face.
Leota tried to concentrate. She mustn’t let her mind wander so much. “Don’t worry about me. Whatever happens, honey, you know who holds the cards.”
Annie’s eyes lightened, warmed, glowed. “I love you, Grandma. I love you so much.” A litany from her heart.
“I love you, too.” Leota couldn’t begin to tell Annie how much the past months had meant to her. So many barren, lonely years. And then the idyll. “Precious . . . precious . . .” She didn’t want to think about the storm coming.
Lord, I am too old and sick to dress myself for battle. You’ll have to put my armor on for me.
“The doctor said he’s given you something to help you rest, Grandma. I’ll come back in the morning.” Annie leaned down and kissed her. Someone was speaking to her from the doorway. Annie glanced up, nodded, and then looked down at her again. “I have to go now, Grandma. Hang on, please. Don’t go home to the Lord yet.”
George came in next. He didn’t say much, but Leota could feel the tension radiating from him. Anger held in check. Had she inconvenienced him again? What time was it? Maybe he was supposed to be at work instead of visiting her in the hospital. Jeanne approached. Why was there such a look of shame on her face? What was going on? George and Jeanne wished her a good night and left.