Simple Gifts (17 page)

Leaving Vic a second time would be the hardest, but he would continue his life, move on, and maybe eventually marry Lana. They made a great couple.

So why did I feel like crying?

Me—I'd stay in Glen Ellyn where I belonged, help raise my precious grandbabies, and be the mother Sara wanted. Lord knew I'd failed Herman; I would not fail my daughter.

“I won't be back, Joe.”

“I'm sorry to hear that, though I know your place is with family.” Regret filled his voice.

“Joe…” Could I do this? The person I needed to tell wasn't Joe, but he was the only person who might understand.

“Yes?”

“Noel is dead. He walked out on me when Sara was a toddler. I've raised her alone.”

Silence.

“Did you hear me, Joe?”

“I heard you.”

I swallowed, my heart pounding. “Noel…Joe, he didn't die recently—he's been dead.”

“I know. He died in Utah, in a skiing accident, if I'm not mistaken.”

“You…you…” I closed my eyes as shame swept over me. Joe knew. He knew about Noel. And if he knew, then Vic had to know too. Joe would never have kept a secret like that from his son.

“Vic knows.” Joe confirmed my unspoken thought.

“Oh, Joe.” Sara's kitchen walls closed around me, and I couldn't breathe. The tight band crushing my heart threatened to buckle my knees. Was I having a heart attack? I shifted in the chair, blindly groping for my water glass. I took a sip. Then another.

“Marlene?”

“I'm here.” I swallowed. “How long have you known?”

“Awhile—maybe two months. Why would you feel you had to withhold the truth from us. From me?”

A question for which I had no definitive answer.

“When Noel…left me, I was scared. I didn't know where to turn. Sara was small, and we still didn't know for certain that she would be all right—mentally, that is. I'd never done anything right in Aunt Ingrid's eyes, and Aunt Beth couldn't have helped even if she had known. And of course, there was Vic. I ran away from him and Parnass Springs…” What a fool I'd been. What a fool I was. “How…did you find out?”

“Vic read an article your husband wrote on the transmission of bird flu from animals to humans. He was puzzled when the article referred to the late Dr. Queens. With a little research, he found out why.”

Closing my eyes, I did what I should have done years earlier.
Dear God, forgive me for this horrible lie! Forgive me for all the years I've misled, confused…I am so very sorry. With your grace, I will never knowingly tell another lie.

“Marlene?”

“Yes, Joe.” I dashed tears from the corners of my eyes. “I'm sorry. Vic has been so
civil.
He's never hinted that he knew.”

A pointed pause. Then. “Yes, he has been civil, Marlene, but I suspect it's all an act. I suspect that on the inside, he's furious. He's playing a game, waiting to see when—or if—-you'll tell him. We've talked many hours about why you would continue the deception. I prayed mightily that while you were here you'd come and talk to us, tell us the truth. I'd have understood. More than once I've backed myself into a brick wall with no way out.”

No more deceit, Marlene.

“I had a way out. The truth. But I chose not to take it. Vic had his life together. Aunt Ingrid never needed anyone, and Aunt Beth was doing fine on her own. I didn't want anyone to know what a disaster I'd made of my life—not when it seemed at the time that my whole life had been confusion.”

“Little Marlene, don't you know God does not expect perfection from you or me? He expects our best, which often falls short of our expectations. Always know there is no problem that you can't bring to God, or to me, for that matter. Neither of us will ever turn you away.”

I grabbed my napkin to catch the hot tears. Every word he spoke drove a nail into my black heart. I believed what he said, yet I'd chosen to live long years in turmoil and guilt. And Vic knew. He'd played along the entire time I'd been in Parnass Springs, never mentioning my lie. My face was as hot as the electric sandwich maker sitting on the counter as I remembered the chances he'd given me to confess, and how I had evaded them.

“What will you do about Ingrid?”

Between sniffles I told him my plans to bring her to Glen Ellyn, relieved to change the subject.

“She won't want to come, you know.”

“It's either she comes here or I move her to assisted nursing, and I don't think she'd want that either.” I'd have Sara, my job at the hospital, the grandchildren, a new baby,
and
Aunt Ingrid to run after. Could I keep up?

“Well, I can help with Beth's house and overseeing the repairs. I can even list the house for you and fax papers to sign, but seems we have a new problem.”

A new one? I couldn't imagine such a thing, not after the past fourteen days.

“What's that?”

“Herman's statue.”

“That isn't a problem. Aunt Ingrid tried to manipulate me into erecting it, but I'm still considering the matter.”

“Humm…interesting. Well, it seems your birth mother's parents think it's a given.”

This time the uneasy silence came from my end of the line. He couldn't have said what I thought I'd heard, could he? My birth mother's parents? Like in grandparents? Like in the people who never wanted to see me?

“You heard me say your birth mother's parents—”

“I heard you.” My ears buzzed. Why on earth would my birth mother's parents object—or want any say in the matter? Joe again read my thoughts.

“They got wind of the proposed statue, and they've gone to the town council to oppose. They feel their family, their daughter, has been through enough with the circumstances surrounding your birth. At this moment they're trying to get legal permission to protect their daughter from further embarrassment. The whole town knows what happened between Lexy and Herman.”

“The project
is
halted,” I argued, still trying to make sense of the interference.

“But Ingrid won't give up the fight. She already has Rexall on the case, and he's filed for a hearing.”

“You must be kidding.”

“I wish I were. I have a feeling all Hades is about to break loose around here.”

In the ensuing calm, a new, more troublesome thought occurred. Understandably my birth mother's parents would be concerned about their daughter. And if their concern continued, that meant she was still alive. No one had ever encouraged me to seek her out. Somewhere in or near Parnass Springs lived a woman who'd given me life, a woman I'd never laid eyes on. I shook my head, trying to clear the mental fog.

“I hate to say it, Marlene, but it's quite possible you'll have to come back. I have a hunch this hullabaloo isn't going to go away overnight.”

I had the same hunch, and the thought struck terror into my heart. Not only would I have to face Vic's condemnation, but now I would be forced to defend my father's right to be immortalized on the animal shelter lawn against a set of grandparents I'd never known. My father's rights? I shook my head. Clearly I was losing it.

After I said good-bye and hung up the phone, I sat there staring into space. I'd had too much information dumped on me to absorb it all. Vic and Joe knew all along I'd been lying. Why didn't they say something? How could they abet me in my crime?

Well, one thing was for sure, I was going back—a decision that would be as popular with my daughter as poison ivy. I'd tell her as soon as she woke. No use putting it off.

I put in another load of laundry and fixed myself a cup of tea, plotting my strategy. Half an hour later, when Sara left the living room sofa for her bed, I sat down on the edge of the king mattress and folded my hands in my lap.

“Joe Brewster called.”

She closed her eyes. “What did he want?”

“Well, it seems there's been a complication.”

“Ingrid? What's wrong now?”

“Not exactly Ingrid, though I suppose it does concern her. It seems my other grandparents are determined to prevent the statue from being built.”

My daughter opened one eye. “That's good, isn't it? That's what you want.”

I'd thought it was, now I didn't know what I wanted. I only knew I didn't want these people who'd ignored me for all of my life, never wanted me or acknowledged my existence, ganging up on Ingrid. Something in me wanted to fight, although I wasn't sure exactly what I was fighting for.

“Mom? You're not
really
going back there, are you?” Sara pushed herself upright, eyes wide. “Mom! You can't leave again!”

“Oh, Sara, you can manage without me.” She was in perfectly good health. It's not like I was leaving an ailing child.

“No, I can't. I
need
you. Mom, what if I lose this baby while you're gone?”

Sure, Sara, lay a guilt trip on me.
“Anything can happen, but if you have problems, I'll hop a plane and be back within hours. I still have unfinished business in Parnass.”

“But I wanted
you
to help get the nursery ready. You know, paint the room and make curtains. And I thought maybe you could make a mobile to hang over the crib.”

And pigs could fly. “Be reasonable. Have you ever known me to make a crib mobile? I'm not a crafty person.”

“You could learn. Besides, you've always told me I could do anything I really wanted to.”

And I'd thought my advice had been in vain. My daughter, God love her, hadn't done much more than she'd had to do all her life, but she'd been saving my advice to hand back to me when she had something in mind for me to do.

“That's a cliché, Sara, and here's another. You can't teach old dogs new tricks.”

“You're not old. I know you could learn to sew curtains. They're just straight seams.”

And where did my daughter get that gem of information? She'd never held a needle. Now she's an expert on sewing curtains? “I'm sorry; if you want to redecorate the nursery, you'll have to hire someone to do it for you. It's not in my line of expertise.”

Petey wandered in, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “Wanna go chase the cat.”

“Not today, darling,” Sara said. “It's not nice to chase the cat.”

“I want to.”

“Well, maybe tomorrow, all right, sweets?”

I interrupted. “Don't promise him he can chase the cat tomorrow. Nancy doesn't want him doing that.”

Sara shrugged. “He'll forget about it by tomorrow.”

I wouldn't bet on it. I slid off the bed. “Dinner is ready to put in the oven an hour before Pete comes home. I've got to go check my house and water the plants.”

Life would go on; Sara would survive without me whether she knew it or not. I'd give her another day to absorb the news. She'd come around. We were only talking about one more week.

Nine

Y
ou
can't
be serious! You're actually going back! I thought this weekend would make you wake up and see that your family is here, with me and the kids and Pete.” My daughter sat on the bed watching me pack on Sunday night. I had an early morning flight back to Missouri, and I'd talked until I was blue in the face, but Sara wouldn't budge.

“You'll be fine, Sara, you have Pete.”

“But I
need
you. I'm not well.”

I could tell her we didn't always get what we wanted in life. Instead, I gentled my news. “Look, you can get by for a while longer, and I'll call every day. I have to find someone to care for Ingrid. You don't expect me to forget about her, do you?”

“You did once.”

I was getting pretty tired of the snide reminders. I shut the suitcase and pretended I didn't hear her remark.

Sara's eyes narrowed. “Is there something you're not telling me, Mom? What's in Parnass Springs—something you're not telling me, that's pulling you away from us?”

Yeah, there was something all right. Vic. But Sara didn't have anything to worry about. He had to be utterly over me after the way I'd lied to him.

“The only thing holding me there is Aunt Ingrid's condition, and this statue controversy.”

“I don't see why someone else can't look after your aunt. What about that Joe person? Seems to me he's a good sort—-you talk to him enough.”

Was that resentment? Jealousy in her accusation?
Oh, Sara. What have I done to you? Made you an emotional cripple, not only with me but the world?
My lie had gone on too long. It had to stop. And now.

I took a deep breath and plunged. I told her the truth.

The lie.

The deception her mother had carried on since Sara was two years old. Her eyes widened in disbelief.

“Why would you lie about Daddy to a family you detest?”

“I
love
my family, Sara. I simply have mixed emotions about their sanity.”

“Apparently they don't have any.”

For the first time in my life, I slapped my daughter's cheek. She sprang back, holding a hand to the smarting injury, eyes condemning. But before she could spew her anger at me, I jumped in.

“You are speaking about my family, Sara. In the future, you will address them with respect.”

She glared at me. “You don't.”

“You're right. I didn't use to. But that's going to change. Right now. I was wrong to talk about my family the way I did. And I was wrong to shield you from them. They may not be perfect, and yes, my childhood was less than ideal, but they are my family, Sara, and I will uphold and respect them. And right now, they need me more than you do!”

I picked up my bag and walked out, leaving a sulking daughter to no doubt wonder what had happened to her oncesane mother.

For once, though, I didn't care. My daughter had to grow up sometime. And now couldn't be a better time.

The weather had turned considerably milder in Columbia, Missouri. Spring had sprung; the sky was a clear, bright, cloudless blue, and everything was blooming—I sneezed—-tiny pollen danced in the air as I left the plane Monday morning. I had a different rental car this time. The guy in charge stared at my driver's license for what seemed like an inordinately long time. Who could blame him? The last time I'd rented a car from him, I'd brought it back pockmarked from hail damage and with an ugly scratch across the front bumper caused by playing tag with a stack of hot Coke cans.

I approached the city limits of Parnass, thinking it would be different this time. No trying to sneak into town, though I still dreaded facing Vic. That would be the hardest thing I'd ever done, and I'd done a few hard things lately. Would he forgive me for my idiocy? Only God knew, and he wasn't talking.

I drove straight to Joe's house. When I pulled into the driveway, he came out to meet me. Later we sat at his kitchen table, and he explained what had gone on the past few days. The news wasn't pretty.

Lexis Parish's parents had caused quite a stir by filing to stop the statue. Aunt Ingrid rose to the occasion by filing to stop them from stopping her. It seemed my wishes were wheat chaff. My head whirled, trying to take it all in. Joe pointed to a copy of the morning news folded to the editorial columns. “I'd suggest that you don't read them. Most will hurt your feelings, and the others will infuriate you, but you should know the town's in quite a snit.”

I picked up the morning paper and scanned the first letter.

How can Parnass Springs think of erecting a statue of a mentally retarded man! Is this how we want to portray our lovely little town?

I pitched the paper aside. Hateful rant!

Joe sighed. “Town's in a real uproar. Real divided about the situation all of a sudden. Some remember Herman fondly and think it's a great idea. Others think talk will get around about the town's division over the statue, and curiosity seekers will flock here to see the uproar. Course, that would mean business for the shop owners, and folks come here all the time anyway to see the covered bridge.” He shook his head. “Don't see what all the uproar's about.”

I buried my face in my hands, gritting my teeth. I couldn't let the town turn Herman into a sideshow, yet who better to personify humanity and the goodness found in an innocent heart than my father?

Sometimes it was good to go back to one's roots, but going back to mine had stirred up an emotional maelstrom.

Was my birth mother blissfully spared the brouhaha? Rumors probably couldn't touch her, though I really didn't know anything about her life. It struck me that no one would object to a healthy, mentally sound young man or a young woman, like Sara, having a statue erected to honor them. The problem was that Herman had been what he was and some people couldn't accept that.

People like I'd been.

Wouldn't you fight for Sara in this situation?

Of course I would. Suddenly my hackles rose. Who was this town or my birth mother's parents to interfere? They'd never shown an ounce of concern regarding me, or made any effort at grandparenting duties. Why step up now and focus the spotlight on an incident that happened forty-three years ago? Their reasoning and overdue concern was absurd. Only I, and Ingrid, should determine Herman's legacy. We'd lived the crisis too.

I wanted to ask Joe about Vic, but pride laced with remorse wouldn't allow me. Joe had said he was furious. Who could blame him? I doubted Vic would ever trust me again. “Have you talked to Winston Little?”

Joe nodded. “He's eager to do battle. That's an outstanding animal shelter and it means a lot to the town. Winston appreciates what Ingrid and Herman have done for Parnass.”

“The shelter is nice, but I don't want a statue if people resent it. I couldn't stand someone defacing it in some way.”

“Don't worry about that. Feelings are running high right now, but once a consensus is reached, they'll settle down. They always do.”

He was trying to make me feel better, but emotions ran deep when people chose up sides. This could cause a permanent split in the community, and that was the last thing I wanted.

“Will Vic talk to me?” I had to know; the uncertainty was eating me alive.

Joe's tone turned evasive. “Well, he was talking when you left town, wasn't he? Suppose he still is. We haven't discussed the matter.”

Men. Women would have talked about nothing else. “Looking back, I realize how foolish I was, but it seemed like nothing ever went right for me. Vic was so happy with Julie, I couldn't bear to tell him my problems.”

“He would have understood if you'd given him a chance.”

“I know that, but I was young and wounded. Noel just walked out, leaving me with nothing.” I stopped, overcome by it all.

Joe bent and patted my hand. “You've had a rough time, haven't you?”

I sniffled, reaching for a tissue. “I had a hellish time. I worked long hours; we went without food and proper clothing at times because Noel was late with child support. I was lonely and scared; Sara missed her daddy. Looking back, I see now that God got me through it. I can see his mercy and grace, running like a scarlet thread through every uncertain moment. When I needed him, he was there, just like you always said he'd be.”

His gaze searched me. “So, are you going to fight for the statue?”

“I guess you find that surprising.”

He shook his head. “I know the real Marlene. You only remember the bad times, and that's human nature, but you shared good times with Herman too. I always knew you loved him. You just had to grow up enough to realize it.”

“I must have been a slow grower.”

He grinned and reached for a pint jar of green granules. “You need some of my new plant food. Mixed it up myself this morning.”

“What's in it?” I backed slightly away from the noxiouslooking stuff.

“Secret recipe—guaranteed to make your plants bust into bloom overnight.”

“Have you tried it yet?”

“Poured some on Gladys Burwell's petunias. Didn't tell her about it, though. Want to surprise her.”

Smart man. I'd driven past Gladys's house on my way here, and her petunias looked sort of whacked out. If Joe had any sense, he'd hide that jar of fertilizer before Gladys planted him.

I let myself into Ingrid's hallway. “Aunt Ingrid?” The house was silent; Ingrid's crocheting lay on the sofa arm.

Mrs. Henkins, the kind soul who'd been staying with Ingrid, appeared in the kitchen doorway, suitcase in hand. “Thank goodness you're back.” She brushed past me on her way out.

“Wait, I'll get you a check—”

“Send it through the mail.” The door slammed, and I whirled and lifted the curtain to watch the elderly lady high-stepping it down the drive. I stared after her, thunderstruck. Where would I find anyone to replace her? Aunt Ingrid was too well known in this town.

Sighing, I turned back when the lady in question rolled into the living room.

She glanced at me, her features impassive. “'Bout time you got home.”

“Have you given Mrs. Henkins a hard time?” Do birds sleep on guy wires? The smell of black burning rubber came to me as the woman peeled out of the drive.

“
She
gave
me
a hard time.”

I set my bag down on the floor. “Aunt Ingrid.” Might as well continue the day on its downward spiral. “I have something to tell you.”

She interrupted. “Guess you know that your birth mother's folks have filed a legal paper. They say we can't put up Herman's statue.”

She wasn't listening.

“People say a lot of things—some not always true.”

“Lot of ugly stuff in the newspaper editorial columns. I'll fight them on this.”

The problems surrounding my aunt were endless. Whatever made me think I could solve them? “What's our next step?”

“R J didn't say. Just said to be at tonight's town council meeting. The Parishes will be there with their attorney.”

At least R J was still with us. I stared at the vacant fire-place, void of ashes, and then said something I never thought I'd say. “We'll fight them on this.”

Her brows lifted.

“You and me. Herman built the shelter, and he should be recognized for his charitable contribution.”

Her look was anything but convinced. “You're on my side?”

“We're family.” My kin may be nuttier than a Payday candy bar, but they were
my
nuts and nobody was going to run over them, the Parishes included.

“What did you want to tell me?”

Time to fess up. “Noel is dead. He left me when Sara was a toddler. I never told you because I thought you'd tell me it was my own fault for running away with him when I was young. For leaving Vic…”

She shrugged. “Good. Never cared for Noel anyway. Any man who refused to bring his family around to meet kin wasn't worth a lick of salt. Don't think we didn't notice that he never came to visit with you—not that you came that much, but his absence was duly noted.” She whirled to wheel off. “Fix me a cup of soup. Old Lady Henkins can't boil a decent cup of water.”

My tensions deflated. I'd had my explanations ready, braced for her questions, and now this. Poof. Nothing. Yet what did I expect from a woman who had never expressed affection. I swear, that woman…

Wait a minute.

I frowned. I never knew she didn't like Noel.

That evening I was in Beth's bathroom touching up my makeup. I needed to eat something, but it'd been such a hectic day and I'd grabbed periodic snacks. My blood sugar wouldn't let me get by with junk-food surfing. I'd have to get something balanced after the town council meeting. I could not continue neglecting myself this way; I had to follow doctor's orders. The hairs on my neck stood up as my eyes moved to the bathroom window where Aunt Ingrid's curious features appeared against the pane, her hands cupped on both sides of her eyes, peering through the glass.