Annie didn’t expect to hear from Corban again after that. Then he showed up on a Wednesday morning three weeks later. She was up on the extension ladder holding an electric sander to the paint-chipped eaves. He had to shout to get her attention.
She shut off the machine, lifted her goggles, and pulled the mask down from her mouth. “Well, hi, stranger!” She grinned down at him. “Come to help?”
“Sure. I’ve got some spare time.”
She took him at his word and put him to work.
Chapter 25
Nora dreaded the approach of Easter.
Ever since Anne-Lynn had telephoned and said she was “opening Leota’s garden for a party to celebrate the Resurrection,” Nora had felt sick with apprehension. She didn’t know if she could stand to go back into that house and be surrounded by memories of her mother. Yet, there was no way to decline Anne-Lynn’s invitation without hurting her daughter deeply and risking estrangement. She couldn’t risk losing Anne-Lynn again. They were just beginning to talk, really talk, as mother and daughter.
Since her mother had passed away, Nora had felt her life crumbling from the inside. Besides the heavy burden of guilt over how she had treated her mother for so many years was the added shame of finding out she was related to those who had taken part in exterminating Jews and Christians during World War II. The more she thought about it, the more she shrank inwardly . . . and the more empathy she felt with her father and mother.
What would people think of me if they knew? She couldn’t even talk about it with Fred. When he suggested grief counseling, Nora said absolutely not. She would never be able to call Pastor Burnie and ask for his help. She had said terrible things to him that day she had sought his counsel. Perhaps if she apologized . . . but why would he listen? It seemed every way she turned, she saw people she had hurt. She needed to make amends, but she was so afraid no one would give her the chance. Or, even if they did, they wouldn’t believe she was sincere.
How many loved ones have I lost over the years because I thought I had all the answers? Bryan Taggart, Dean Gardner, Michael. It’s a miracle I haven’t lost Fred. I don’t want to risk losing Anne-Lynn. Oh, Lord, seal my lips. Keep me still. I’m so afraid of ending up alone the way my mother was. I did abandon her. I wanted to hurt her the way I was hurt. And I did hurt her. I hurt her over and over again, year after year, right up to the very last day of her life.
How many Mother’s Days had passed without Nora so much as calling her mother and asking her how she was? She remembered the times her mother had called and Nora hadn’t even tried to hide that she couldn’t wait to get off the line. So many times Nora could have included her mother in family dinners and at the children’s birthday parties.
I remember things Mother said to me that filled me with anger and resentment. And now I realize she was trying to tell me something important, and I wouldn’t listen. I had no idea of the burdens she carried, nor was I willing to find out. I was too busy living life my way.
Would she one day have a grandchild like Annie, who would love her no matter what she’d done? I thought I knew more than everyone else. . . . I thought I knew everything about my mother. Why was it so easy to think the worst of her? Why couldn’t I have just once swallowed my pride and listened to her side? Oh, why didn’t I go back to the hospital that night? . . .
She’d already lost Michael. Jesus, please, don’t let me drive Anne-Lynn away again.
Nora felt as though she were locked in an elevator going down into a dark hole. There was no escaping. Fred insisted she see the doctor, but when she was given a prescription slip for Prozac, she refused to fill it. She knew the cause of her despair, and it had nothing to do with a chemical imbalance in her body. It had everything to do with guilt and shame. Why should she be spared pain when she had caused so much?
Oh, Mama, maybe if I’d had a month with you to talk everything over . . . A week would’ve meant so much. Even one more day. Oh, God, I would’ve been glad for five minutes to tell her I’m sorry and ask for her forgiveness. But that’ll never happen now. You’re punishing me for all the years I neglected my mother, for all the years I despised her and made no secret of it. I allowed bitterness to blind me. I allowed it to choke out every chance of a relationship with her. No wonder she could never say she loved me. How could she when I treated her so abominably?
Fred had finally become impatient with her last night. He said it seemed all the energy she had expended trying to shape Anne-Lynn’s life to her specifications was now focused on torturing herself. “You’ve become prosecutor, judge, jury, and prison warden all rolled into one,” he’d said in exasperation.
Maybe so, but wasn’t it only fair?
“Annie’s been working hard to make this a special Easter for everyone. If you go over there and mope around the entire day, looking like death warmed over, you’re going to ruin her party. One of these days, you’re going to have to stop playing God!”
Shaken, she made up her mind. She would pretend for Anne-Lynn’s sake that she was joyous about the religious significance of Easter. But to do that, she needed to look her best. She needed to smile as though she meant it, whether she felt like it or not. So she had a massage and a facial. She went to her hairdresser and her manicurist. Fred had suggested she shop for a new spring dress, but she didn’t feel up to that. Besides, she had a closet full of clothes from which to choose. She could give away half of what she owned and not miss anything. Clothing used to matter so much to her. She had been so ashamed of her family’s poverty, so determined to show she was as good as everyone else—
No, that wasn’t right. The truth was, she wanted to show she was better.
I covered up my shame with pride. That’s what I did. Isn’t it, Lord? Like naked Eve putting on those fig leaves. I’ve been hiding.
Easter morning, Nora stood in her dressing room, looking through her clothes. She felt like wearing black, but knew Anne-Lynn would hope for something that announced spring and the Resurrection. She finally chose white slacks and a candy-pink blouse with pearl buttons. She topped the outfit off with a mint-green blazer and long scarf in pastel yellow, pink, and green. She wore a circle of gold leaves with pearl buds on the lapel. Looking at herself in the full-length mirror, she was satisfied with the overall effect. She looked fine—more than fine even.
On the outside.
Fred approved. His eyes glowed as she came down the stairs. He kissed her when she reached the bottom. “Perfect. You look beautiful.”
The word cut her heart deeply. Perfect. Was that at the root of her troubles? Hadn’t that always been her goal? Perfection in everything. She had to look perfect, be perfect, have perfect children. What a mess she had made of everything in her constant striving for perfection!
I am a sham. All through church, Nora kept thinking about her childhood and all the ways she had tried to be better than everyone. Grandma Helene had expected perfection, but Nora knew it was unfair to cast blame on her grandmother. Grandma Helene had been miserable, and she had made everyone around her miserable.
Just as I have done. Grandpa Reinhardt sat on a bench, but my husbands ran away. I swore I wouldn’t become like my grandmother, and that’s exactly what I became. Hard, determined to have my way, punitive when I didn’t, bitter with life, grasping for control, manipulating. I don’t want to be like that anymore. Oh, God, I don’t, but how do I change? Oh, Lord, I don’t know what to do anymore. Help me, oh, please, help me!
After the service, Fred talked with the pastor while she went to the ladies’ room. Pastor Burnie smiled at her when she returned. He even extended his hand and said he was pleased to see her in church again. She said she was glad to be back. Then she gathered her courage and said, “I’m sorry, Pastor Burnie. I behaved badly.”
He didn’t let go of her hand, but put his other over hers. “All is forgiven.”
“I’ll listen next time.”
She and Fred didn’t say anything on the way through the hills to Oak
land. Fred turned on a CD, filling the car with soothing, orchestral sounds. Her stomach was a hard knot. Fred seemed preoccupied. Was he worried she would say or do something that would cause trouble?
“It’s a perfect day for a party,” he said when they took the Fruitvale Avenue off-ramp.
Blue skies and sunshine. Yes, it was a perfect day for a garden party.
Oh, God, help me get through it. Help me! Help me!
Fred drove up the road next to the freeway and took a right. At the top of the hill, at the head of Annie’s street, was a new Neighborhood Watch sign. Nora wondered if it was her imagination, but the houses along the avenue looked neater. Lawns were mowed, and there was no litter blowing around. The bars on the windows had been removed from the home across the street from her mother’s house.
No, Anne-Lynn’s house, she corrected herself. Perhaps, if she thought of it that way, it would be more bearable.
Corban Solsek’s car was parked in front. There were cars lined up in Annie’s driveway: hers, Susan Carter’s old VW, and an old Firebird. Annie was going to have a full house.
The house!
Nora stared. Gone were the black water stains, the dangling rain gutters, the paint-chipped eaves. The house was a freshly painted candy pink with white trim. It had a new roof, and the small lawn was lush green, mowed short and edged. The flowering plum was in full, pale-pink splendor. The trimmed and shaped camellia and azalea bushes in front were covered with pink and white blossoms. Hanging pots on the front porch overflowed hot-pink and purple fuchsias. Even the white picket fence that lined the right side of the driveway was repaired and freshly painted, along with the carport and garage.
“Annie’s been busy.” Fred smiled at Nora as he opened her car door and helped her out.
“It looks wonderful.” Nora could scarcely take in the transformation. Flowerpots filled with pink and white geraniums were on each step. Two white wicker chairs sat on the front porch, a small wicker table between them, on which sat half a dozen clay pots with tree saplings. Each pot had a white ribbon tied around it.
The front door was open, the screen unlocked. A little card that read Come in! had been taped over the doorbell.
The living room was empty except for Barnaby sitting on his perch. “Whatcha gonna do?” he said, bobbing his head. “Whatcha gonna do?”
Contemporary Christian music played quietly on the radio beside Leota’s old recliner. The carpets had been cleaned, the furniture polished. There was a new painting above the mantel—a portrait of Leota as a young woman. Nora drew in her breath softly and held it, her throat aching. She remembered her mother looking like that. She had been beautiful.
On the right side of the mantel was an elegant marble-and-brass vase filled with lilacs and narcissus. The room was filled with sweet fragrance.
“Everyone must be out back.”
Nora glanced at Fred and nodded, then caught her breath when she looked through the kitchen window to the garden beyond. It was like a wonderland of colors. Memories flooded back, and for a moment she thought the wave of sorrow would overtake her. Then other concerns rushed to replace them. I have to smile for Anne-Lynn.
She saw other guests in the garden. Corban Solsek, Sam Carter, Susan Carter and her parents, Arba Wilson, Juanita Alcala and Lin Sansan and their children. They all had reason to think ill of her. Hadn’t she always thought the worst of them? She had to gather all her courage to follow Fred out the back door and face them.
“Mom! Fred!” Anne-Lynn said and came to greet them. Nora had never seen her daughter look more beautiful, though she was wearing old, faded blue jeans and a pale-yellow sweater that had seen better days. Her hair was a wild mass of red-blonde curls, and her cheeks glowed with color. She had been out in the sun and had a golden tan. Her blue eyes shone with joy. “Oh, Mom, you look so beautiful,” she said, and for just a moment, seeing her daughter’s expression of pure love, Nora felt beautiful and cherished.
She and Fred greeted others and made small talk. Everyone was friendly, smiling and welcoming her and Fred. Anne-Lynn served her a tall glass of fruit punch and went inside the house to bring out more trays of food.
Nora couldn’t get over the garden. She had never seen it look so beautiful, so fully in bloom. And the funny things Annie had thought to tuck in here and there made her smile. Who would’ve thought of using bowling balls in a garden? An old, red Flyer wagon was filled with beribboned saplings in pots.
“They’re from the apricot tree,” Annie informed her, following her mother’s gaze as she came up with the food tray. “There’s one for everyone to take home and plant.”
“It’s a lovely idea.” And she meant it. Annie’s smile was pure delight.
Nora saw Fred deep in conversation with Tom Carter. The telephone rang and Annie hurried into the house, leaving Nora on her own to wander.
The garage and apartment built at the back were painted to match the house. Shutters had been added and tole-painted with exquisite flower designs. The door was open. Nora peered in and saw several of the children playing a board game on the braided rag rug. Anne-Lynn had been hard at work here, too. The apartment had been repainted a sunny yellow, with brightly colored border designs. Gone were the old bed and couch—they’d been replaced by shelves laden with books and games and art supplies. The only other furnishings were two card tables, one with a half-finished puzzle, the other with coloring books, a can of crayons, and a plastic bag of clay. The walls were decorated with childish works of art. There were two easels. One was two-sided with paint-tray holders so that a child could paint on each side. The other was Annie’s.
The brick walkway had been swept and repaired with mortar. Nora’s mother’s old gardening clogs were by the gate, violets planted in them. Red blaze roses covered the old fence and arbor. The scent was heady. The gate was open to the victory garden. How many hours had her mother spent working the soil, planting, tending, harvesting? Nora remembered now how neighbors had exchanged vegetables with her mother. The lady next door had traded green beans for pearl onions, and zucchini for tomatoes. Now beneath the blossom-covered fruit trees were yellow daffodils, red tulips, grape hyacinths, and white narcissus rising from a sea of tiny indigo-blue starflowers and foam-white alyssum. Nora had never seen anything so beautiful.
Maryann Carter came and stood next to her beneath the rose arbor. “Amazing, isn’t it? The minute I saw it, I thought this must be what it was like in the Garden of Eden.”
“Yes.” Nora’s throat was tight.
“It smells like heaven, doesn’t it?”
“Yes,” Nora said, inhaling the mingled scents of roses, lilacs, white narcissus, honeysuckle, and gardenias. “I was a fool when I said Annie could never be an artist.”
Maryann smiled. “People can be like Monet paintings. You have to get some distance before you can see what they are and appreciate their full beauty.”
Touched by her kindness, Nora smiled at her. “Thank you.”
Maryann put her hand on her arm. “Why don’t we refill our glasses with punch and sit down over there so we can get to know one another better?”
Nora smiled. “I’d like that very much.”
“Annie said you were graduating this June,” Corban said to Sam as they leaned against Annie’s car and watched the guests in the garden.
“Yep. With honors.”
“Not too proud of it, are you?”
Sam grinned. “Sure, I’m proud. Not bad for a guy who barely squeaked through high school and spent a few months with the Youth Authority.” He lifted his can of soda in a mock salute. “Took me a while to grow up.”
“Do you have a job lined up?”
“I’ve had some interviews. I’m thinking about taking a job with the LAPD. Maybe I’ll get lucky and end up working with the Youth Authority again. In a different capacity, of course. But I’m planning to hold off making a decision over the summer. I’d like to do a little traveling before tying myself down to a nine-to-five or whatever.
What about you? Annie said you’re graduating in June, too. Magna cum laude, I hear. Impressive. Still planning to do your postgraduate work at Stanford?”
“No, Cal has a better graduate program, so I’ve decided to go there.”
“Yeah, right. I wonder why you want to stay so close to Oakland.”
Ignoring him, Corban watched Annie move among her guests. She was so beautiful she made his heart ache.
“Man, you’ve got it as bad as I ever did.”
Corban glanced at him. “What?”
“Annie. Your tongue’s practically hanging out.” He watched her for a moment and then gave Corban a rueful smile. “Take some advice from someone who’s been there. Give up.”
“Just because you didn’t get anywhere with her doesn’t mean I won’t.”
Sam laughed. “Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you? Even if you were a Christian, you wouldn’t have a prayer.”
Corban’s eyes narrowed. Sam Carter was full of ill tidings, not that he’d expected a rejected suitor to give him any encouragement. Still, he’d take the bait. “Why not?”
“Because she’s already married.”
“Married?” He glanced at Annie and then back at Sam. “What’re you talking about? She’s not married.”
“She’s as married as anyone can be, Corban, old boy. You just don’t get it.” He smiled ruefully. “Took me a while, even after she told me up front I was wasting my time. I thought I could wear her down with my charm and good looks.” His expression turned tender as he watched her. “Has she talked to you about the Lord?”